Tesselated Fate
by x Ugly Duckling x
Summary: ROTS AU. What if events happened differently, yet much the same? Would Anakin's destiny be any different? Or do all roads lead to his fall? Oh, the ripples one small pebble can make. *NOW COMPLETE*
1. Prologue

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**Tesselated Fate**

_ROTS AU. What if events happened differently, yet much the same? Would Anakin's destiny be any different? Or do all roads lead to his fall?_

_The motivation behind this story is varied. First and foremost, like any normal person, I vainly wish that ROTS had ended differently. That's hardly a unique wish._

_I also wanted other subtle plot variations - namely, more of Padmé's perspective. More dialogue between her and Anakin. Between her and anyone, really. Her character & script were SO shortchanged in that movie. Basically, I'm aiming for more intimate character development & drama all around._

_I do tend to favor dialogue over action, but rest assured I've included both in this story._

_90% of the details are canon, give or take. I've done my best to research everything, but sometimes A) there's no info so I invent it, or B) I just don't like the info so I change it. That's what FanFiction's all about anyway. ;)_

_So enjoy, and please be kind! I get the feeling the SW crowd is a tough one to please... *gulp*_

_(The cover art for this story is from my Deviant Art collection. Retarded FanFiction won't let me paste the link... just search for "juliesally100" on DeviantArt dot com. It's good for a laugh or two.)_

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**Prologue**

A pair of delicate hands traced the balcony railing, brushing away the last flecks of daylight as the sun set over Varykino. They stopped at the farthest point overlooking the water and a pair of dark brown eyes drank in the restful scene. Even in the fading light, the colors surrounding her seemed no less vibrant, no less saturated with the life-giving exuberance she felt every time she came here.

_Two more days_, Padmé sighed to herself_. Just two more nights of sleeping alone before I'll have him like a warm boulder next to me in bed._

As usual, her request for leave had been last-minute. At no point during their marriage had Anakin been able to provide more than a week's notice. Bail and the other senators began to assume it was the mental toll of war that periodically drove her to Naboo's lake country. They were partially right, she supposed – the war _was_ responsible for these clandestine rendezvous, but not for the reasons they suspected.

The only ones who knew the truth were those who accompanied her on each impulsive trip, Dorme and C3PO. While her handmaiden managed the turmoil well, mastering the art of packing Padmé's luggage in under half an hour, the protocol droid was another matter. She often resorted to powering him down to keep him from tripping over Dorme in his haste to prove useful. He came in handy as a diplomatic interpreter, but where grace and agility were concerned, Dorme was the uncontested winner.

Both had been excused early that evening. Neither could provide her with anything the balcony couldn't. All she wanted was to lose herself in the sweet scent of flowering vines, to close her eyes with her feet planted exactly where she'd stood nearly three years ago in Anakin's shadow. To feel him lift the scalloped edge of her veil and press his mouth to hers with tenderness that belied his age.

To convince herself, just for a moment, that it had only been yesterday, that husband and wife had never spent so much as an hour apart. That nothing, and certainly nothing as ugly as war, had or ever would separate them.

A few unruly curls tickled her cheeks as she inhaled the soft breeze. The illusion was almost complete, she thought with a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. If she focused just a little more, let her mind drift over the mirror surface of the lake, she'd open her eyes to find him standing there, as clearly as if she could reach out and touch the masculine lines of his body.

With a mournfully passionate sigh, she watched the vision fade and felt the bliss slowly drain from her veins. This was as it should be, she told herself. Fabricated reality was no place to linger once your soul had been soothed. Stay too long and you faced the risk of losing yourself – and your mind – in the fantasy forever.

That was precisely what she feared had happened when she turned to see a figure in the doorway. A figure whose broad shoulders and disarming smile belonged to only one man.

Leaning back to brace herself against the railing, Padmé pinched her eyes shut, panicking. _Snap out of it Padmé_, she silently barked. _You're still imagining him. You'll open your eyes and see… he won't be there anymore._

Except he was.

_I've lost my mind. I'll never be able to tell dreams from reality again…_

"Are you going to stand there blinking all night, or do you intend to hug me at some point?"

Before she could recover from the shock of hearing his voice, Anakin had closed the distance between them with four long strides. Her senses drowned in smooth, cold leather as her face buried into his shoulder, the sudden shock of his fierce embrace making her gasp for air.

"What are you doing here?" the balcony spun like a carousel around her. "You said it would be two more days…"

A chuckle rumbled against her ear. "I can leave and come back in two days if you'd prefer," he teased, running his human hand up her neck to caress her hair. "Far be it from me to inconvenience a senator. I know how tightly you keep your schedule."

Any retort she may have had was smothered by a kiss that left her reeling even more. Steadying herself against his arms, at last she gazed into the blue eyes she'd longed for daily for the last five months. Far too long, she thought with an ache she still felt now. Their longest separation yet.

"You're hardly an inconvenience, Ani," she laughed. "But this has never happened before… usually it's just the opposite."

"I know," he murmured while kissing her forehead. "Maybe this is a taste of things to come. With my last mission so successful, maybe the end of the war is closer than we think."

"You have no idea how badly I want to believe that," she sighed.

"Then believe it."

The smile in his voice made her look up, arching an eyebrow uncertainly. "What are you saying?"

His smirk was even more disarming than she remembered. "I have a feeling, that's all. Obi-Wan and I have watched the landscape of this war change for almost three years. We both sense its turning point approaching."

Padmé frowned slightly. "Turning points can go one of two ways. I'm afraid that isn't very consoling."

"Have a little faith," he brushed her cheek, planting a finger on her lips to gently silence her worries. "It's not wise to doubt what the most powerful Jedi in the universe tells you," he added with a roguish smile.

"My apologies. I hope the consequences won't be too harsh," she whispered playfully.

"Oh, there will be consequences milady, but I wouldn't call them harsh."

Padmé's feet lost contact with the ground as Anakin swept her into his custody, locking her securely against his chest without a backward glance to the lake.

The bed he soon deposited her on felt softer than it had the previous night. The faint glow of the nightlight seemed softer too, falling over the lean form of her husband and each breathtaking move he made. It briefly shone on a new scar running down the side of his ribcage, a sight that made her pause until his lips found her neck again.

Her mind never could hold onto a sober thought at times like this. The longer they'd been apart, the shorter those thoughts lived. And five months was a new record… it would be a while before her capacity for rational thinking returned.

And so a small voice went unheard, drowned by the tidal wave of desperation that flooded everything in its path. A voice that tried feebly to warn her of where she was in her cycle, that her waking temperature had only begun to rise that morning. That unlike during all his other visits, the window for conception was wide open.

Only hours later did she hear that voice. Waking to find Anakin's chest rising and falling with gentle snores, she rolled onto her back and stared unblinkingly at the ceiling.

_It was only one time… the odds of it happening have to be low, right? After all, it can take months for couples to conceive_. She glanced back at Anakin's sleeping form and swallowed against the lump in her throat. _Then again, I know girls who who'd be the first to tell you that one time is all it takes…_

Sleep was fitful for Padmé until dawn finally arrived. The only thing she woke feeling certain of was that Anakin deserved two weeks of bliss and relaxation. If that meant burying the ever-mounting dread in the pit of her stomach, then she would bury it until the point his ship vanished from the sky.

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	2. Chapter 1

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**Chapter 1**

**Seven months later**

For the third time that week, Padmé found herself not woken by the pleasant sounds of her bedside radio chrono, but by several jabs to her lower ribs. The searing hunger in her stomach wasn't much better. Moaning as much from the discomfort as from the effort required to shift herself out of bed, at last she succeeded in planting both feet on the floor.

She was fairly confident they were both on the floor, anyway. She'd feel more confident if she could actually see them.

One hand pushed against the mattress in an effort to stand up while the other held her swollen stomach for balance. Exhaling as she stood upright, stars danced before her eyes and she placed a palm against the wall until it passed.

"Low blood sugar again," she cursed under her breath. "I've got to remember to leave a box of granola bars on the nightstand."

As if demonstrating its support for this, the resident inside her womb squirmed again.

"Of course you like that idea, don't you? You wake me up because you're hungry too," she smiled wanly, rubbing the spot. Another bulge appeared on the opposite side of the globe and she shook her head. "Sometimes I'd swear you have four arms and legs instead of two."

A soft knock rapped on the door and Dormé's concerned face appeared shortly after. "Milady, are you up?"

"Yes Dormé," she replied weakly.

"Are you ready to be dressed?"

"Not right now. I don't think I can wait that long to eat this morning," Padmé confessed.

Dormé was at her side instantly, allowing Padmé to lean against her for support. "I can have breakfast ready in ten minutes. I'll pour you a glass of juice as soon as we reach the kitchen."

"Thank you," Padmé sighed, feeling humiliated for what must have been the hundredth time in seven months. Though Dormé had adapted well to the challenges of caring for her during pregnancy, Padmé still wished it was Anakin helping her waddle down the hallway instead. He should have been the first one to witness the curve of her belly, not her handmaiden during one of countless dressing sessions. Instead of his hands cupping the baby fondly, Dormé's hands brushed across it quickly while offering new tactics to hide the ever-increasing bulge.

Indeed, Dormé's self-consciousness only contributed to Padmé's. _But at least she feeds me_, she thought gratefully as she eased herself into one of the kitchen chairs. _Anakin's baby definitely has his appetite._

"Here you are, milady," Dormé presented a plate of eggs and toast.

Padmé managed a muffled "thank you" through a mouthful of food, barely pausing for air. Preoccupied with the meal, which she swore had never tasted half as delicious, she didn't notice Dormé watching her with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Madam, may I ask you something?"

Padmé nodded without looking up from the plate.

"I don't mean to pry into what isn't my business, but… do you know what you're having?"

Padmé's chewing slowed, though she couldn't afford to stop it altogether. She was suddenly very thirsty.

"You mean the gender?" she asked after gulping some juice.

"Well, yes, but that's not all. I was wondering, do twins run in your family?"

Blinking, Padmé loaded another forkful of eggs while considering Dormé's question. "Twins? No, not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

Dormé fidgeted with the edge of her apron. "Please trust that when I say this, milady, I mean no insult. And I could be entirely mistaken, of course… but from what I've observed of expectant mothers, and given your size, I suspect you're carrying two instead of one."

Padmé nearly dropped her fork.

"If a doctor has told you otherwise, please do tell me. I don't wish to appear presumptuous," Dormé added anxiously.

Swallowing slowly, Padmé couldn't bring herself to meet Dormé's worried eyes. "I-I haven't been to a doctor since the third month," she admitted. "I went to a basic care facility, the kind that takes walk-ins without any medical history paperwork. I only had a blood test to make sure I was healthy. More detailed testing would have required me to reveal my true identity."

"So you don't know anything? Not even the gender?"

"No," Padmé sighed. "I would love to know, but I can't risk letting this secret escape. If a nurse were to sell it to the media, it would destroy my career… and Anakin's," a sob caught in her throat.

Dormé placed comforting hands on Padmé's shoulders. "I understand. I didn't mean to upset you. I only want you and the little one – or ones – to be healthy."

Padmé nodded, staring with disinterest at her remaining food, her appetite not what it had been two minutes ago. Yet if Dormé's suspicions were correct, she needed to polish that plate until it shined. _Two? Could there really be two?_ If she was honest, there certainly were times when it felt like eight punches and kicks were assailing her organs. Eight limbs, belonging to not one, but two gifts Anakin had unwittingly left behind at Varykino.

Her jaw clenched with the effort to resist crying. This revelation was a double-edged sword, sweet yet bitter in so many ways. The children whom Anakin knew nothing about had just doubled.

So had the number of children who would likely be fatherless if the war didn't end in the Republic's favor.

And even if it did, success didn't guarantee a lack of casualties. It usually guaranteed just the opposite.

Mechanically finishing her now cold food, Padmé accepted Dormé's silent assistance back to the bedroom, her mind a million miles away as her handmaiden hoisted a bulky gown over her head. Before its thick fabric fell into place, she stole one last appraising look at the dome of her stomach. There was no denying it, she thought with resignation. It was conspicuously enormous. Larger than she'd expected to be at full-term, which was still two months away. How could she have been so blind?

The time for self admonishment would have to wait, she realized upon seeing C3PO enter the room with R2 at his heels. "Good morning, mistress Padmé," the taller droid greeted with the same cheerful formality as any other morning, blissfully unaware of anything else. "I have today's senatorial meeting schedule, if you would like me to brief you on it now."

Dormé placed the final pin in Padmé's hair and left without a word. "Yes, go ahead Threepio," Padmé replied, sitting down on the bed with a sigh.

"Very good. As you know, this week marks the annual Republic grand convention, with each day featuring several events of importance. Today begins with a standard meeting at 0900, followed by a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the renovated library at noon. You and senators Organa and Mothma are to be the distinguished guests of honor."

_I'd forgotten about the ribbon ceremony_, Padmé grumbled to herself. _And it's at noon. Great. It's going to be boiling hot outside by then._

After hearing the afternoon and evening events, she thanked C3PO and reached for a nearby datapad to enter a few notes. But instead of graciously taking his cue to leave, the droid remained standing in the middle of the room.

"Is there anything else?" Padmé asked after a minute.

"Ah, well, as a matter of fact there is," he hesitated to say. "As a loyal and concerned member of your personal staff, I couldn't help but notice certain changes in your… physical appearance."

Padmé's eyes widened and she lowered the datapad. C3PO had never said a word regarding her pregnancy, and she was rather curious what his comments would be now.

"I do hope the mistress won't be offended, but I thought it prudent to offer my services in constructing a wholesome, low-calorie menu for milady."

_Low-calorie?_ Surely he wasn't serious. Fewer calories were the last thing she needed. "I'm not sure I understand," she said uncertainly.

"Fewer calories will help the lady avoid gaining any more excess weight," C3PO stated matter-of-factly. "It will facilitate returning to a slimmer, healthier state."

"Excuse me?" Padmé's jaw dropped.

"Please miss Padmé, there's no need to feel defensive about the matter. It isn't uncommon for humans to become overweight from time to time, especially those with schedules as demanding as yours. Together, I'm confident we can arrange a diet and exercise regimen that is most satisfactory-"

"Threepio, hold it right there," she raised her hands, finding herself oddly torn between anger and the urge to burst out laughing. "You seem to have gotten the wrong impression. I'm not overweight."

"Then to what can I attribute the extra mass around your abdomen?"

Beside herself at having to explain this to a protocol droid, of all things, Padmé smiled in exasperation. "Pregnancy, Threepio. Surely you're familiar with the condition."

"Oh! Oh, I beg your pardon, miss Padmé!" he rocked back slightly on his heels. "I was not aware… that is, no one, not even yourself, had informed me… oh, I do apologize madam," his arms became agitated as he struggled to save face. R2, meanwhile, sputtered a series of condescending beeps at him.

"It's all right, no harm done. As long as you still don't insist on reducing my calorie intake," she arched an eyebrow.

"Oh no, certainly not. Such a measure would surely endanger your health and that of the child," he acknowledged. "Dear madam, I really must apologize again. Please accept my belated congratulations, and do not hesitate to request any favor in which I can assist."

"Thank you Threepio, I appreciate that greatly. If you don't mind, I have a favor to ask now."

"Yes of course, what is it milady?"

"I could use a hand standing up."

"Right away, milady," he shuffled over as quickly as his joints allowed, offering her a golden arm to grab onto.

"Thank you," she huffed upon standing. "Now would you please call for my escort? I should leave soon if I hope to reach the council chambers by 0900."

"I shall do so immediately."

With nothing left to be said, Padmé smiled graciously and headed past him toward the door. She'd nearly reached the hallway when she heard him call out, "Congratulations once again, miss Padmé. Master Anakin must be pleased as well."

She stalled in her tracks, gripping the doorframe to regain her balance.

"I hope he will be," she sighed sadly before picking her feet up again, leaving the two droids behind in awkward silence.

With Padmé out of earshot, R2 chastised his colleague even more severely, to which C3PO reacted indignantly. "How was _I_ to know she was pregnant? Apparently everyone's been conspiring to keep this a secret from me, just so I can humiliate myself in front of our mistress! Honestly, what sort of dysfunctional household _is_ this?"

Their classic banter continued long after Padmé departed, trying to let Coruscant's hazy sunrise distract her from the ache that had gnawed at her for seven long months.

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_Just ignore the fact that R2 should be helping pilot Anakin's ship instead of rolling around Padmé's apartment, k?_


	3. Chapter 2

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**Chapter 2**

Summer on Coruscant was allegedly on par with Tatooine's heat. The planet's industrial infrastructure offered no relief from the sun, with no lakes or other bodies of water to absorb its rays and keep the streets from roasting like a giant oven.

Padmé had always been grateful for the senate building's conditioned air on days like these. And that was well before her wardrobe had been overtaken by heavy, concealing cloaks.

Stepping along pale gray sidewalks toward the new library, she and her two companions were in no hurry as morning drew to a sweltering close.

"Let's get this over with as soon as possible," Bail groaned. "No pomp and circumstance. Just cut the ribbon, bow to the crowd and be done with it."

"Agreed," Mon Mothma wiped her brow.

Bail's scowl deepened. "Remind me again why we have to walk there like dogs?"

"The only senate shuttle not in use is having engine problems," Mon replied wearily. "And with traffic this time of day, Mas Amedda doubted a public shuttle would arrive in time. He thought walking five blocks wouldn't kill us."

"Clearly he hasn't set foot outside today."

"Can we focus on something other than the heat?" Padmé pleaded.

"We can try," Bail grunted.

"The only other topic I can think of isn't much more appealing," Mon grimaced. "The Chancellor still hasn't been rescued from Grievous. It's been nearly a week now."

"Tell me about it. If he were here, maybe we could pass this job off onto him."

"Bail, he's elderly! If we can't tolerate the heat, imagine how much he would suffer," Mon chided him.

"Then maybe he'd have the sense to cancel it, or at least schedule it earlier in the day."

With their attempts to redirect the conversation backfiring, all three plodded ahead in miserable silence. Padmé raised her water thermos to her lips, knowing the liquid would be tepid at best but desperate for it anyway. A few droplets reached her tongue before the rough sound of air echoed up through the straw.

"Here Padmé, have some of mine," Mon handed her a plastic vial. "Not to be critical, but you could have dressed a little better for the forecast. Something lighter than that cloak," she eyed it briefly, nauseated by the very thought of wearing it. "Don't you have a nice summer wardrobe? Lots of featherweight gowns and chiffon layers? You've always pulled them off better than I could."

Instinct tugged at the corner of Padmé's sluggish mind, warning her to invent an explanation that would divert Mon's curiosity. Yet as her parched throat tried to speak, the edges of the white-hot landscape suddenly darkened, fading to inky blackness as she finally collapsed.

"Bail!" Mon cried, drawing his attention back from three steps ahead.

Organa quickly joined her in kneeling at Padmé's side. "She's obviously suffering from heat stroke," he frowned. "I'm not sure either of us is too far behind."

"There's a clinic just down the street. I'll call them to bring a transport."

Nodding, Bail glanced over his shoulder. "Let's get her into the shade in the meantime. Help me carry her over to that awning."

"Good idea. But first let's remove this cloak, it's cooking her alive."

Sweat stung Bail's eyes as he reached over to assist Mon in unfastening the clasps running down the length of the cloak. What they saw upon finishing their task left them momentarily speechless. Both pairs of eyes settled on the prominent bulge rising beneath Padmé's gown.

Mon inhaled a gasp of thick, humid air. "Did you know she was...?"

"No," Bail stared in utter shock.

"How can this be? Why didn't she tell us?" Extending a tentative hand toward Padmé's stomach, Mon found nothing but firm resistance beneath her palm.

"I don't know. But knowing Padmé, her reasons must have been serious. To go to all this trouble, wearing these hundred-pound cloaks…"

"I knew it wasn't like her. She used to dress so feminine, showing off her figure all the time," Mon reflected. "I should have known. It all seems so obvious now."

Bail nodded. "I noticed her walking slower between meetings. Her energy level seemed to drop overnight."

Mouth hanging open in wonder as Mon felt a soft kick beneath her fingers, she gazed in amazement.

"Who do you suppose the father is?"

"That's probably what she's been trying to conceal," Bail reasoned.

"So what do we do now? Should we really take her someplace that could potentially compromise her privacy?"

Sighing, Bail ran his sleeve across his forehead. "In her condition, we don't dare take any chances. I'd rather be responsible for her reputation than her death."

"All right, I'll call the clinic while you call the committee to tell them we won't be attending the ceremony," Mon withdrew a communicator from her pocket, squinting at the wicked sun as Bail gingerly lifted Padmé onto a shaded bench.

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"I'm sorry, I'm just having a difficult time believing my own eyes," the bearded physician shook his head while sliding through text on a datapad. "This certainly looks like Padmé Amidala, but nowhere in her records does it indicate she's currently pregnant."

"We're just as surprised as you are, Doctor Tran," Mon said quietly from her bedside seat.

Bail crossed his arms. "She kept it a secret from her closest friends. I couldn't tell you why, but she clearly didn't feel she could trust anyone, not even medical staff."

Tran discarded the datapad with a frown. "That's unfortunate, not to mention dangerous. Especially with a high-risk pregnancy such as hers."

"High risk?" Mon looked up.

"We consider all multiple gestations high-risk by default."

The senators' expressions were mirror images of shock. "_Multiple?_" they said in unison.

"Yes, twins. Fortunately, both seem to be in perfect health despite lack of prenatal care." He ran a small device across Padmé's belly, verifying the readings for the tenth time since admitting her fifteen minutes ago. After checking the intravenous bag dangling above his patient, he simply stood watching her a moment, lost in his own thoughts.

"Will she be all right?" Mon inquired.

"I think so," Doctor Tran replied, his eyes still on Padmé's unconscious form. "Heat stroke isn't uncommon among pregnant women. She should revive shortly, but I strongly recommend keeping her indoors as long as the weather stays like this."

"That won't be a problem," Bail said with an ironic smile. "She'll be happy to leave this week's outdoor festivities to the two of us."

Nodding, the doctor stepped back to cleanse his hands at the sanitizing station. What he was about to say would be marginally easier with his back turned to them.

"It's standard procedure to contact someone in cases of emergency, like a spouse or next of kin. Do either of you know who that might be?"

"Isn't there an emergency contact in her file?" Mon suggested.

"There's a Dormé Voillare listed, a handmaiden I presume. But under the circumstances, I was hoping you knew of someone else," Doctor Tran cleared his throat. "What I'm asking is, do you know the father's identity?"

Mon blushed with empathy for her friend. "We have no idea."

Bail's posture grew somewhat defensive. "Excuse me doctor, but with all due respect, we wouldn't share that information even if we knew it. Padmé's treatment and recovery don't depend on you or anyone else knowing that. I don't consider it to be any of your business."

Tran said nothing initially, shutting off the sanitizer before facing them again. "In that case I'll contact Ms. Voillare and inform her of the situation. A nurse will return in an hour to assess senator Amidala and determine whether she may be discharged at that time."

"May I have a word with you first?" Bail gestured toward the corridor with a sober look.

"Briefly, I suppose. There are many other patients needing my attention."

_Yes, but none half as fascinating as the good senator, right Tran? _Organa tried to keep the sneer from his face as he followed the doctor out the door. Once it shut behind them, Tran found himself uncomfortable beneath Bail's imposing shadow.

"I didn't want to say this inside, on the off chance that Padmé is conscious enough to hear us," he glared at the doctor. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight until you promise something."

Trying valiantly to maintain a professional façade, Tran met Organa's glare as best he could. "What might that be?"

"The instant she's discharged, erase all evidence of her being here. Keep her pregnancy omitted from her records." Tran opened his mouth to object, but Bail continued. "And I want your personal guarantee that you and your staff won't breathe a word of this to anyone as long as you live."

Indignation spread across the shorter man's face. "How dare you ask me to compromise official records! And are you threatening me? I'll have security throw you out on your ear faster than you can blink!"

"You're misunderstanding," Bail lowered his voice. "I don't mean to threaten you physically, but politically."

Tran stared at him mutely.

"After all the effort it took for you to win the senate's approval for a renovation grant last month, it would be a shame if the funds suddenly became unavailable."

"You wouldn't," he said through clenched teeth.

"Don't test me, doctor. I don't throw around political threats often, but when I do, rest assured I mean business."

Seething with fury, Tran's facial muscles twitched. "But why _her?_ What makes her worth such extreme measures?"

Bail didn't attempt to hide his disdain. "Someone has to ensure her privacy is respected. And I get the distinct impression you can't be bothered to do so – not without an incentive." With one last glare, he turned to reenter Padmé's room. "You may lack the conscience to protect one person's honor, but you'd rather die than see this clinic fail. I have every confidence you'll make the right choice."

His fists remained tightly clenched even after he resumed his seat next to Mon, leaving a shaken doctor to return to his office alone.

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_I invented Dormé's last name since it isn't listed anywhere. Sorry if you thought you stumbled upon a nugget of trivia!_


	4. Chapter 3

_Glad a few folks like it so far... here's some more to start the week off._

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**Chapter 3**

The air was stale on Grievous' ship. _No, more than stale; acrid like death itself_, Anakin silently amended as he and Obi-Wan crept along darkened corridors deep within the _Invisible Hand's_ bowels.

If not for the abducted chancellor's presence on the ship, Anakin wondered why Grievous even bothered keeping the atmosphere pressurized. It all seemed a waste, considering the vessel was filled with nothing but droids and a cyborg that relied on machinery far more than oxygen. He'd have expected such a cunning general to see the advantage of forcing visitors to supply their own. But aside from the stench burning his nostrils, he wasn't about to complain.

"I think we may have taken a wrong turn," Obi-Wan tried to muffle a cough. "It smells like we're closer to the garbage incinerator than the observation deck."

"Don't worry, master. First thing we do when we find Grievous is demand he install air fresheners on every level," Anakin smirked.

"Perfect. That will go nicely with the redecorating plans I had in mind."

"Let me guess, a neutral palette for the walls and some richly textured furnishings?"

"Oh, you know me too well."

"Thirteen years with a guy will do that."

"Tell me about it," Obi-Wan rounded a corner, slicing through an unsuspecting battle droid before it could fire.

"Do I sense bitterness behind those words?" Anakin replied with mock indignation. "Come now, master. Has knowing me really been such a burden?"

Not slowing his silent, determined pace, Obi-Wan threw a loaded sideways glance at the taller Jedi. "We haven't the time now for me to answer that question honestly," he goaded.

As if to reinforce his point, half a dozen droidekas rumbled toward them from behind, springing into position and firing a volley of red blasts. Lightsabers twirled to deflect them as Anakin force pushed several onto their sides, causing their shields to overload with explosions that echoed the ship's violent tremors.

"We don't have time for this!" Obi-Wan shouted, charging the remaining two droids at ranges too close for their wide-set blaster arms to handle. "The ship is falling apart, and we still haven't found Palpatine!"

"Then enough tiptoeing around, I suggest we run," Anakin raised an eyebrow before racing down the hall with Obi-Wan half a step behind.

"Brilliant idea," he huffed as they turned another corner. "If we knew where we were going, that is."

"I do."

Before Obi-Wan could reply, his companion skidded to a halt several doors down, fist slamming into the controls to demand access. Yet when the massive black panel refused to move, it soon found the scalding rod of a lightsaber cutting an arc through its thickness.

With a kick that sent the molten-edged disc booming to the floor, Anakin stepped through into what Obi-Wan instantly recognized was the observation deck.

"How did you know…?" he asked in wonder, surveying the deserted expanse of the room.

"I started to sense the chancellor's presence just before the roller droids attacked," Anakin advanced with measured steps. "No wonder I sensed it so easily – there's no one else here to confuse the signal."

"So it would seem," Obi-Wan said cautiously as the two descended from the upper landing, blades held at ready angles.

The only logical point of interest was a high-backed throne currently facing the red and blue-scarred battle raging outside. Though neither Jedi spoke as they approached it now, both were certain of whose wrists they'd find bound to that chair.

Appearing tired and – to Anakin's bemusement – somewhat bored, Palpatine turned his gaze from the galactic spectacle to breathe a dramatic sigh of relief.

"Ah, Skywalker and Kenobi, my dear, faithful friends! I never doubted you'd come to my rescue," he leaned back as they swiveled the seat around, Anakin severing the electric wrist binders with two swift cuts of his blade.

"Don't thank us quite yet," Obi-Wan cautioned. "This seems entirely too easy. Grievous wouldn't simply let us walk off his ship without a fight. Not after all the trouble he went to secure your capture."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but the general is occupied elsewhere at the moment."

There was no mistaking the baritone voice coming from the balcony. Broad shoulders concealed within his signature black cape, Count Dooku stood flanked by two super battle droids, his bearded face set with stern nobility.

"He sent me to have the honor of destroying you," he finished, catapulting himself over the rail to land on their level.

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "Stay seated, chancellor. This should only take a minute."

"Indeed it should," Dooku agreed with an arrogant smirk.

The clash of red and blue weapons now reflected on both faces of the chamber's windows, sparking with equal intensity. Flaring and clashing with blinding speed, the three blades swerved in fluid choreography edged with aggression.

Focused as they were on anticipating the other's next move, none of the three combatants noticed Palpatine's grin growing steadily in width and perverse satisfaction. Each static hiss of colliding blades seemed to broaden it as the conflict escalated. The droid escorts were dispatched easily enough, but the momentary effort to do so left Obi-Wan a fraction of a second behind Dooku's arm. The Count sent him flying across the room to collapse unconscious at the foot of the stairs.

"Couldn't handle the pressure of two on one, huh Dooku?" Anakin sneered, pressing the dark lord back with newfound ferocity.

"I'm merely growing tired of this child's play," Dooku sneered back in irritation. "The chancellor has had enough of a show, I think. Time for the final curtain call."

"On that, I couldn't agree more."

Palpatine's teeth shone evilly as he watched Anakin gain advantage and momentum against Dooku with each successive blow, until the climactic moment when the Jedi dismembered his hands with a scream of agony.

"Anakin, well done!" Palpatine forced his tone to sound more grateful than delighted. "Now finish him and let's get out of here!"

Adrenaline still surged through Anakin's system, flooding his senses as it reached its apex. The chancellor's words fed it like oxygen feeding a fire, swelling the flames to near-consumptive levels. Somewhere behind the fire's roar was a voice, shrill enough to make him pause but destined to be silenced before much longer.

In one hand he clutched the defeated Count's lightsaber, angled against the blue glow of the one in his other hand – his mechanical hand. The hand this monster kneeling before him had stolen from him three years ago. The hand that should have been caressing Padmé on their wedding night instead of causing him shame next to her perfect, unspoiled form.

The hand he'd lost on the eve of a war that had separated them far too long.

A war that might stand a chance of ending with Dooku out of the picture.

These were the thoughts he sacrificed along with Dooku's head.

Yet somehow, standing before the scattered remains of Dooku's body, the retribution didn't quite feel as it ought to. The fire burning his veins had already cooled, all but extinguishing when Dooku's soul did. All he could find in its embers was the unsettling ashes of regret.

Distant explosions, more thunderous than before, rocked the ship and pulled Anakin's troubled conscience to more pressing matters.

Palpatine was already halfway up the balcony stairs by the time he noticed Anakin taking a detour to retrieve Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry to say it, but we can't afford to be slowed down any longer," he advised, feigning compassion. "These tremors are only getting worse. There's no telling how much longer the ship will remain intact."

Crouching next to the fellow Jedi, Anakin ignored Palpatine's warning. _Come on Obi-Wan, wake up or you're in for a bumpy ride across my shoulders_, he shook his shoulders as roughly as he dared. Then, almost too faint to notice, a twitch registered on one of Obi-Wan's eyebrows.

"I think he's coming around!"

"Anakin, we really can't wait another second–"

Obi-Wan apparently decided it was time to settle the debate once and for all, finally waking up with a few coughs. "Anakin – what happened? Where's Dooku?"

Anakin winced slightly at the reminder and glanced over his shoulder. "Taken care of. I'll fill you in later, but we have to get out of here now." The ship quaked once again to reaffirm his point. "The escape pod bay is several decks up. If we hurry we might just make it."

The trio struggled to remain upright as they raced toward an access shaft. Two things prevented them from reaching it.

The first was the unsettling angle at which the floor began to tilt. And second was the sight of Grievous jettisoning himself in an escape pod, its red-orange thrusters visible through a nearby portal window.

"This is bad," Anakin gritted his teeth.

"If Grievous has abandoned his own flagship, there can't be much hope for us," Obi-Wan concurred.

"Change of plans. The bridge is much closer than the escape pod bay, follow me!"

Exchanging a startled look with Palpatine as Anakin took off, Obi-Wan found himself chasing after the younger Jedi for the second time that day.

"What good will being on the bridge do us?" Obi-Wan braced himself against a wall as their balance continued to erode. "The stabilizers are obviously malfunctioning! Those can only be accessed from the engine room!"

"I know the stabilizers are a lost cause," Anakin called back, sliding to a stop against a bridge console. "But if we're going down, we may as well try to land gracefully."

Obi-Wan balked, lowering himself uncertainly into the commander chair next to Anakin, who was frantically flipping switches and adjusting controls, over half of which weren't responding.

"You mean… you're going to try to _land_ this?" Palpatine spoke up from behind them.

Anakin nodded. "It's our only hope. Now sit tight and brace yourselves, this is going to be rough."

Rough was a delicate way of describing it. Obi-Wan had endured asteroid collisions with greater comfort. Yet as they hurdled toward Coruscant's surface at bone-jarring speeds, heat searing the cockpit as debris rained down in their wake, Obi-Wan knew the chances of a miracle couldn't be better with Anakin in the pilot's chair. If all his reckless, daring maneuvers had been practice for this moment, he'd never gripe about them again.

_Well, at least not for several weeks_, he compromised with himself, glancing over at Anakin with a sardonic smile.

He looked just in time to see a piece of steel paneling tear away from the wall and slam squarely into the left side of Anakin's skull.

Slumping forward over the controls, Anakin's eyes rolled back before shutting, his entire body gone limp.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan grasped his shoulders, getting no response from the unconscious Jedi. "Damn! This heap of junk just doesn't give up, does it?"

"Can you get us down safely?" Palpatine wrung his hands, forehead creased with worry.

Obi-Wan wiped the sweat beading on his own brow. "I'll do my best, Chancellor."

Moving Anakin's dead weight out of the way, he focused on the short-circuiting controls rather than the deeply bleeding gash Anakin had incurred.

"One thousand meters and closing," he stated tersely, locking his neck against the turbulence that threatened to shake his skeleton apart. "Eight hundred… five hundred…"

Impact was nothing less than they expected. As dust settled and the ringing in their ears became the only sound in the eerily still cockpit, the two conscious passengers stared at each other in stunned silence.

"We're alive…" Palpatine said hoarsely, arms still wrapped around a support beam for dear life.

"I believe we are," Obi-Wan pushed himself up and brushed off what remained of his cloak. "But some of us less so than others," he knelt by Anakin's red-stained form.

"Of course," Palpatine acknowledged with a deeply concerned frown. "I will contact vice chair Amedda and have him direct us to the nearest clinic."

Nodding, Obi-Wan lifted Anakin onto his shoulders with a grunt, careful not to jostle his head unnecessarily.

"Well my friend, you'll be proud of me when you wake up," he murmured while Palpatine communicated with Mas on his comlink. "You probably won't believe it – your old, stodgy master pulling this off without your help. Remember this next time you accuse me of being too cautious and slow."

Palpatine switched off the comlink. "Amedda says there's a medical facility a few kilometers south of our current position. He's alerted them to send an emergency shuttle to our coordinates."

"Good. We'd best crawl our way to fresh air so they can locate us easier."

Pushing their way through twisted halls of blistered wreckage, at last they stepped into the sun's glare and onto solid earth. Obi-Wan squinted at the medical shuttle beginning its descent.

"All's well that ends well, wouldn't you say Chancellor?" he smiled wanly, shifting Anakin's weight.

"Master Kenobi, to say this ended 'well' would be an understatement," Palpatine turned to him with sincerity. "You saved my life. I can't imagine how to ever repay you."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," he smiled again before meeting the medical droids approaching with a stretcher.

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	5. Chapter 4

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**Chapter 4**

Muffled syllables filtered through Padme's ears as her brain began to pull away from the black void, slowly congealing into words she recognized.

"…the doctor. He shouldn't give us any more trouble."

"I hope you're right. Poor Padmé… I can't imagine the stress she must have been under all this time."

"Mon, I'm sure this goes without saying, but what we've learned today goes no further than the two of us."

"Of course. Nothing – and nobody – could force this secret from me."

"I want her to wake up, yet I worry about her reaction to seeing us here."

"What should we say?"

"That she can trust us. That whatever she needs, we'll be more than happy to offer."

"Wait, did you see that? Her mouth moved just now."

Lifting eyelids as heavy as stone, Padmé flinched at the harsh fluorescent bulb buzzing directly overhead. She heard two figures rustling off to her right, and suddenly the palm of a warm hand touched her forearm.

"Padmé?"

Her tongue fought against the dry interior of her mouth. "Mon?" she whispered, seeing the other woman's familiar features without understanding the context.

"You're in a clinic not far from the library," Mon said gently. "We brought you here when you passed out from the heat."

"The doctor says you'll be fine," Bail spoke up.

There was a dull throbbing in Padmé's head blocking the return of clear thoughts. Placing a hand on her brow, she struggled to sit up in bed, hoping things would feel less hazy once she adjusted the uncomfortable weight of her belly.

The belly whose mountainous curve was shielded by nothing but a thin hospital gown, she realized with a startled gasp.

A million fears paralyzed her as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes refused to turn even a fraction of a degree in Mon and Bail's direction.

Sensing her panic, Mon leaned forward. "Padmé, it's all right. Everything is going to be just fine, we promise you."

Blinking, Padmé swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. "Who else knows?"

"Just the two of us," Bail replied. "And the doctor, but he'll be keeping quiet."

Padmé finished shifting her position with a sigh. "I'm sorry," she said with downcast eyes.

Mon's shoulders drooped with compassion. "Don't apologize, Padmé. There's no need to feel ashamed around us."

"Whatever you wish to keep private is your business," Bail assured her.

"You know we'll always respect you, no matter what. But speaking as a friend more than a professional colleague, I wish you had confided in me," Mon admitted.

"Yes, if for no other reason than to let us help you," Bail crossed his arms. "You're a strong woman Padmé, but carrying twins can't be easy."

_Twins_… so Dormé's suspicions were correct. Padmé felt her cheeks growing warmer by the minute.

"It's not that I don't trust either of you… I just didn't want to be a burden. With all the pressures of the war, you have enough to worry about these days."

"And you don't?" Mon said incredulously. "You have to think of yourself sometimes, dear. Especially now."

Bail nodded. "By the looks of it, you wouldn't be able to hide it much longer anyway. What was your plan if you went into labor in the middle of a council session?"

Feeling the anxiety slowly ebb from her system, Padmé allowed herself to smile. "I'd probably blame it on food contamination from the cafeteria."

"Well, believable as that may be, you're much better off with us knowing your situation," Mon declared. "And anything else you need up until then, just say the word."

Padmé exhaled slowly, wishing she could tell them what she needed most of all – for Anakin to return safely, in time to witness his children's birth. For him to embrace their new family with enough joy to erase all the agony of the past three years. For her to be able to fall asleep with the certainty that his face would still be next to hers when she woke, and would be every morning of the rest of their lives.

Yet Bail and Mon certainly couldn't promise such things. Nobody could – a reality as cold as the sheets she eased herself into each night.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"Not at all. Now lie back and rest, they'll be coming to check on you in an hour. Would you like us to stay with you?" Mon asked.

"If you don't mind, I could use some time to myself," Padmé answered honestly, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Of course dear, you deserve it. We'll go wait in the lobby."

"See you in an hour," Bail stood and followed Mon to the door.

Just as they were about to exit, Padmé spoke once more. "Mon? Bail?" They turned with open expressions. "In a way, I feel relieved now. If anyone had to know, I'm glad it was you two."

The two senators smiled in response, dimming the lights on their dear friend before leaving her to rest.

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"Pupils are contracting normally now," murmured the doctor shining a penlight into each of Anakin's eyes. His patient scowled in irritation.

"I told you I'm fine," he tried swatting the doctor's hand away. "Enough of these stupid tests."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "You took quite a blow to the head, Anakin. You couldn't even remember your own name when you first woke up."

Anakin scratched at the corner of his head bandage. "There's nothing wrong with my memory now. I seem to recall the Chancellor being with us not too long ago, or will you tell me I dreamed that entire rescue mission?"

"No, that was all quite real. Palpatine has since returned to the senate to quell rumors of his death."

"What about the mess we left behind?" Anakin asked casually while the nurse checked his pulse.

"Oh, don't worry about that, we crashed in an abandoned zone," Obi-Wan waved a dismissive hand. "Scheduled for demolition next month. We may have actually helped the process."

"All in a day's work," Anakin grinned. "Save the chancellor, destroy a Sith lord, speed up heavy municipal projects."

"Yes, but keep in mind_ I_ managed the last part."

"If taking over the last five seconds counts."

"It does. Those are the seconds that count the most."

Clearing his throat, the doctor stood waiting for them to finish. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have a couple things to discuss with you, Jedi Skywalker."

Anakin gave one last petulant glance at Obi-Wan. "Go ahead doctor."

"First, you have a mild concussion. Nothing too serious, but you do need to remain awake for at least the next six hours."

"All right."

"I'll see to it he doesn't drift off," Obi-Wan jabbed him with his elbow.

"Good. Now, the next issue involves your prosthetic arm. I couldn't help but notice that it's suffered minor damage in some areas."

Anakin flexed the metallic fingers tentatively. "It's seen some action during the war," he acknowledged. "Haven't had a chance to get it polished in a while."

"What would you say if you could do more than polish it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Busy as you've been with the war, you likely haven't heard of the latest medical advancements," the doctor handed him a glossy brochure with radiantly smiling models on the cover. "We now have the ability to fit you with a flesh-covered limb that feels virtually real."

Flipping through the pamphlet, Anakin scanned the information impassively.

"It's a remarkably simple and low-cost procedure," the doctor continued. "After a few x-rays today, we could be ready as early as next week. That is, if you're interested."

"I am."

Anakin's instant, flat-toned response caused the doctor to exchange a dumbfounded look with Obi-Wan. They'd mistaken his cool façade for ambivalence.

"Oh, very good then," the physician blinked, regrouping his thoughts. "Vela will perform the x-rays down the hall, and afterward you can schedule the procedure at the administrative desk."

"Right this way," nurse Vela pointed to the door with admiring eyes set on her patient.

"Be sure to check on room 23 when you're finished," the doctor advised her.

"I will," Vela opened the door for Anakin, enjoying the close proximity of his tall frame. "You know, it's been quite the star-studded day here. You're not the only famous client we've seen so far."

The doctor's head suddenly jolted up from his datapad. "Vela!"

"Sorry Doctor Tran," she grimaced before disappearing down the hall.

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_Catch that? If not, you'll be sure to catch it in the next chapter. ;)_


	6. Chapter 5

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**C****hapter 5**

Bail leaned impatiently on the front desk counter as the billing receptionist tried to access electronic files. Mon stood next to him with hands resting on Padmé's hoverchair handles.

"I apologize for the delay, our system is a little sluggish today," the receptionist gave a courteous smile. "We'll be upgrading it once we receive the grant next month."

"That's all right, I'm in no hurry," Padmé replied, not quite able to see above the counter from her low vantage point. She let her mind drift by watching other visitors milling about the lobby; the veil-like hood ending at her neck allowed her to observe without revealing her face.

Turned as she was to face the commons area, she didn't notice two familiar figures heading toward the desk from another hall.

The taller of the pair had his nose buried in various reading materials, sifting through them compulsively as they approached the broad, elliptical desk. His companion had to jostle his shoulder to draw his attention back to the present.

"You'll have to excuse my friend, he's rather excited about having this procedure done," Obi-Wan smirked at the assistant who greeted them.

"Name please?"

"Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan answered for him.

Entering the information on her computer, the clerk frowned after a moment. "I'm sorry, there seems to be a problem with this station. If you'll follow me, I'll try another one farther down."

The two Jedi hadn't taken more than three steps when Obi-Wan spotted two faces he'd missed earlier.

"Senator Organa! Senator Mothma!" his refined accent rang through the lobby.

He wasn't expecting the sudden fear he sensed from both of them. "Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker! I see you both made it back in one piece," Bail returned a halfhearted greeting, nervously shifting on his feet.

"Yes, somehow we always seem to manage. Fancy seeing you here – are you out touring for the grand convention?"

Bail glanced anxiously at Mon, then at something beside them below the counter. "Ah, well, not exactly…"

"Oh. I hope neither of you is ill. You both look well –"

His words died in his throat as he and Anakin rounded the final turn, stunned by what neither of them could have anticipated.

The irony was that Padmé appeared far more shocked than they.

It wasn't that finding her in the company of these two senators was unusual. Nor was it odd that they should be seen in a public place in the middle of the day, especially one as relevant to politics as a medical clinic. No, those were not the circumstances which caused Obi-Wan and Anakin to gawk at her with uncharacteristic, gauche rudeness.

It was the fact that senator Amidala, perhaps the most esteemed and dignified member of the entire council, was confined to a hoverchair, the apparent cause of which was her heavily pregnant stomach.

Anakin dropped every last one of his brochures.

The stitches in his head wound pulsed violently at the sight.

"Senator Amidala…" Obi-Wan fought to subdue his shock. "It's… good to see you again." Drawing upon more diplomatic experience than Anakin yet possessed, he subtly elbowed him to speak as well.

Anakin forced his lungs to draw in air, but his throat felt narrower than a straw. "Y-yes," he swallowed, voice shaking. "It's always an honor… milady."

He tore his eyes away from the bulge to meet her face. It was fuller than seven months ago, her cheeks round and flushed with a glow he'd never seen before. A glow that could only come from carrying a baby… _his_ baby, he realized with a dry heave that left him completely winded.

His head throbbed and felt detached from the rest of his body. Without the counter to brace against, he'd have fallen to his knees from the effort to restrain his emotions.

Padmé's agony was no less intense. She saw the torment in her husband's eyes, felt the angst rolling off him in waves as he struggled to maintain a professional distance. Of all the ways she'd imagined telling him, this was dead last on her list.

"Thank you, it's good to see you both as well," she summoned the courage to say. As if to protest the injustice of their father being so coolly met, the twins pushed against her ribs with a vengeance, making her gasp and massage her belly. Anakin was certain his head would explode at any moment.

"It's such a relief knowing you've returned safely. Was your last mission successful?" she asked after catching her breath.

"Very. We returned the Chancellor to his rightful place this afternoon," Obi-Wan said proudly, making a conscious effort not to look below her neck.

"You did!" Padmé exclaimed. "That's wonderful! I had no idea, being stuck here the past hour."

"Yes, well… I hope you're feeling better now," Obi-Wan cleared his throat and shifted uneasily. "I hope everything is all right with… well, with the…"

Wanting to spare him further discomfort, Padmé offered a tired smile. "Please Obi-Wan, there's no need to dance around the obvious. I realize how surprising this must be," she smoothed the fabric over her belly, avoiding Anakin's scorching gaze. "I appreciate your concern, but yes, everything is fine with the pregnancy. I merely had an adverse reaction to the sweltering heat outside. I'm fine now… this hoverchair is just part of the clinic's standard discharge."

Bail and Mon exchanged glances behind her, neither finding "adverse reaction" to be entirely accurate. But of far greater concern was the delicate situation they found themselves in. While they'd be hard pressed to find two individuals more trustworthy than these Jedi, Bail wasn't thrilled about two more pairs of eyes seeing what they didn't need to.

"Excuse me, Mr. Skywalker?" one of the clerks spoke. "Our scheduling calendar is finally working. We can select a date for your procedure now."

Anakin didn't flinch.

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan turned, mortified to find Anakin still staring at the senator. "Anakin, really! Pay attention!"

Blinking as if suddenly shaken from a deep sleep, Anakin faced the desk with a start. "Sorry…" his voice sounded as hollow as a droid's. "What are my choices?"

"A week from tomorrow is the earliest we can arrange."

He nodded instantly. "Yes. Perfect. What time?"

"Check-in is at 0800 hours, and Dr. Tran will begin work at 0900."

"Good, I'll be there." He noticed the pile of brochures scattered at his feet and quickly stooped to collect them. Padmé watched him with a longing that made her soul burn.

"May I ask what procedure you're having done?" her voice was softer than a feather.

Anakin fixed her with unnervingly blue eyes. "I'm getting a new arm," he said. "An upgrade for my old prosthetic."

"Oh, that's good news!" Padmé tried to keep her smile subdued. "You must be looking forward to it."

"More than you know, milady."

Obi-Wan observed the two with passive interest, the tension he still sensed between them giving him pause. Their mutual shock was understandable minutes ago, but it should have abated by now. Oddly enough, their heart rates seemed to be accelerating the closer they came to ending this encounter.

"I suppose I'll have to chauffeur you that day," Obi-Wan pressed his lips. "Can't have you driving around drugged with a bandaged arm, can we?"

Something was definitely amiss when Anakin didn't respond with his usual wit. Instead he was rotating his gaze from the floor to the counter back to Padmé's belly every few seconds, scarcely aware of the others standing around.

Thoroughly embarrassed by his apprentice's behavior, Obi-Wan saw no benefit in lingering any longer. "We've all had a long day, Anakin. I'm sure the senators have other business to attend to this afternoon," he bowed in their direction while leading Anakin away. "Senators, good day."

"Good day to you as well," Padmé was slightly taken aback at their sudden withdrawal. "But may I ask something of you before you leave?" she added breathlessly.

Obi-wan hesitated. "Yes senator?"

"I don't quite know how to say this, but… I would appreciate it if you told no one about this," she slid a hand across her stomach self-consciously.

"If that is your wish, you can rest assured we won't speak of it to anyone, milady," Obi-Wan solemnly assured her.

Anakin's eyes bore into her once again. "We certainly wouldn't want the wrong people knowing, _would_ we milady?"

Padmé's breath caught in her throat. All she could do was stare mutely back at him.

"Well senator, I suspect we'll be seeing each other around. Master Obi-Wan and I have no further missions for the time being," he added for her benefit.

Somehow she found enough of her voice to respond. "Yes, I imagine we will see more of each other soon."

"Good afternoon, then," he and Obi-Wan bowed graciously, leaving the trio of senators exactly as they'd found them five minutes ago.

Only when the clinic's doors hissed shut behind them did Obi-Wan turn to scowl at Anakin.

"Have you no discretion whatsoever?" he demanded irritably.

Anakin blinked and shielded his eyes from the sun. "What?"

"I've seen younglings react with more decorum than you just did!" Obi-Wan hissed. "I was no less surprised than you were, but you didn't see me gawking at her like some sort of circus act!"

A public transport landed several yards down the street and Anakin walked toward it briskly.

"Sorry master," he mumbled.

"Imagine being in her position, Anakin. She felt anxious enough without you ogling her belly. She deserves more respect than that, especially from us!"

"All right, I understand!" Anakin snapped as they took their seats on the transport, tucking both hands inside his sleeves. "I just didn't know what to say." That much, at least, was indisputably true.

Obi-Wan sighed and leaned his head back against the window. "You'll hate me for saying it, but this proves yet again that you still have much to learn."

The urge to fume at Obi-Wan's words was sorely tempting, especially given the circumstances. _Always so presumptuous_, Anakin seethed, neck stiffening as he tried to keep Obi-Wan out of his peripheral vision.

"Well, no serious harm done, I suppose," Obi-Wan offered as a final, optimistic comment. "We'll be no less committed to her safety and protection than before. In that regard, nothing has changed."

_Speak for yourself, old man_, Anakin tightened his fists within his cloak. _Nothing may have changed for you, but everything has for me_.

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	7. Chapter 6

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**Chapter 6**

Padmé ran a brush through her hair for the hundredth time as she felt the day's heat recede with the sun. A soft breeze had found its way to her balcony, stirring the light silk nightgown that fell at her ankles. Even the hum and purr of passing vehicles seemed to carry a soothing edge that evening. Yet despite the idyllic sunset, beautiful in a way unique to Coruscant, Padmé's heart was anything but calm.

Over six hours had passed since the clinic. And thanks to her fellow senators' care and concern, she was forced to spend every minute in her cooled apartment, replaying those five minutes over and over until her head ached. If Anakin didn't return home soon, she feared she'd drive herself mad.

Dormé appeared at the balcony threshold, looking as tired as Padmé was starting to feel.

"Is there anything else you need, milady? I'm thinking of retiring early tonight, but only if my services are no longer needed."

"Thank you Dormé, but I can't think of anything. I should probably sleep soon too. My body is exhausted but my mind won't shut off."

A sympathetic smile touched Dormé's eyes. "Worrying won't make him return any sooner, milady."

"I know. Waiting wouldn't be half as painful if I knew what to expect… I couldn't read him at all this afternoon, Dormé!" she cried. "The longer he stared at me, the more clouded his expression became. I've never wanted to burst into tears more in my life!" the memory caused her to do so now, dropping her hairbrush as she covered her face with her hands.

Dormé came to stand by her side. "I'm sure it was just his shock and your anxiety that made it seem worse."

"I pray you're right," Padmé sighed between tears.

"I daresay I am. From what I've seen of master Skywalker's character all these years, I have to believe his reaction wasn't as you perceived it."

Padmé sniffed. "How can you be sure?"

Dormé smiled to herself, amused at having to convince her mistress of her own husband's devotion.

"Let me put it this way: if tomorrow you're still convinced he isn't overjoyed at becoming a father, you may dock my wages for an entire year."

That, if nothing else, managed to staunch Padmé's tears. Her handmaiden's bold avowal left her speechless.

"Now I understand you want to stay up, but don't forget your health and the babies'," Dormé patted Padmé's shoulder. "Don't push yourself much longer. Besides, he'll be here when you wake in the morning."

Too emotionally and physically weary to argue, Padmé simply nodded, wiping her cheeks as Dormé retreated into the apartment. Her back was screaming at her now, protesting the many hours she'd spent pacing on swollen feet. She arched it gingerly and hobbled toward the nearest padded lounger inside.

_I just need to sit and rest a while. I'm not giving up, only recharging a little_, she told herself as she eased her suffering body onto the cushions. Yet her hips and spine felt little better upon sitting. Groaning with the effort to shift positions, she eventually curled onto her side, exhaling with sweet relief as the strain of her belly melted away. _I'll be up again in ten minutes_… she silently declared. _Fifteen… at the most_…

Her eyes closed before she could bargain with herself any further.

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"A toast to the chancellor!" Mas Amedda raised a slender glass.

Cheers rang throughout the Chancellor's holding office beneath the senate chamber, flowing as freely as the champagne served in honor of Palpatine's return. The subject of the toast smiled graciously.

"Come now, the ones who really deserve this are the true heroes of the day – Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker!" he deferred, nodding in their direction with his own glass held aloft.

The roar was even louder this time as the two Jedi bowed humbly.

"Truly, this shall be a day remembered for all of history," Palpatine continued. "The day the infamous Count Dooku fell! The end of this seemingly endless conflict is at last in sight!"

"All hail the Jedi!"

"For the glory of the Republic!"

"Peace and justice shall be ours!"

Anakin could no more escape their deafening shouts than the adoring faces he encountered at every turn. Diplomat robes swirled everywhere he looked, garish jewelry and headpieces bobbed like carnival attractions, and the oppressive closeness of so many bodies was slowly making his head spin.

His reasons for disliking these events went beyond physiological discomfort. Besides being ostentatious and shallow in a sociopolitical sense, they wasted time. And time was the one resource he was loathe to waste the past three years.

And tonight… it was the greatest affront of all to be detained _tonight_. The injustice troubled him to the point of nausea.

Obi-Wan finished shaking an admirer's hand and glanced aside. "Anakin, I know these types of celebrations aren't your favorite, but do try to look a little less misanthropic."

"I'm… not feeling well master," Anakin pressed a hand against his temple, wincing upon confirming that the pain medication was wearing off.

"You seemed fine all afternoon," Obi-Wan countered. "You wouldn't sit still for more than ten seconds at a time. As agitated as you were, it was no challenge at all keeping you awake for six hours."

"The pain meds are starting to wear off now."

"Didn't they give you some for later?"

"I left them at the temple," Anakin lied.

"How convenient. And you're suffering too much to carry on without them?"

"I'd like to see how well _you_ fare after getting your head split open," Anakin glared.

Obi-Wan sighed, already seeing the futility of pressing the issue. "Fine, but you do realize you can only play that card for so long." He paused to study Anakin's face. _He does look rather pale_, he reluctantly admitted. "Are you sure you're up to driving?"

"Don't worry master, it would take far worse pain to keep me from driving."

"But not to keep you from this party," Obi-Wan said smartly.

"Spare me your griping Obi-Wan, my head aches enough without it," Anakin ran a hand through his hair. "If you have nothing else constructive to say, I'd just as soon bid you and the chancellor good night."

Obi-Wan paused before responding. Something about Anakin's demeanor seemed off, and he felt certain it wasn't due to his head injury. His tolerance for pain and incorrigible spirit shouldn't be so easily conquered, not when he'd sustained far worse damage with a grin. He was in better humor after losing his arm on Geonosis than he was now.

When he thought about it, Anakin hadn't exactly been himself for the past several hours. Not since their encounter with the senators at the clinic…

Suddenly it all made sense. _Come on Anakin, will you never outgrow your foolish attachment to that woman? Not even now that she's obviously attached to another?_ Obi-Wan bit his tongue in frustration, wanting to throttle his apprentice. _I always wondered what would happen if she did. How you'd take it. I guess we have the answer now. Your head may hurt, but it's nothing compared to pangs of jealousy, is it Anakin?_

As much as he wanted to lecture Anakin on the matter, he recognized this was neither the time nor place to do so. It would have to wait.

Sighing again, he shook his head in defeat. "Go on then. Give your apologies to the chancellor on your way out. And Anakin?"

"Yes?"

"Rest well. We have much to discuss tomorrow," Obi-Wan gave a hint of warning to his tone.

Nodding, Anakin offered a stiff bow. "Goodnight master," he said flatly before winding his way through the maze of intoxicated guests.

_Maybe this misery will finally cure him of attachment_, Obi-Wan thought while watching his tall form retreat. _Some lessons have to be learned the hard way. Maybe this is the punch in the gut he needs. _

A punch in the gut was precisely how Anakin would describe that afternoon's experience. The irony, of course, was that Obi-Wan's assumptions as to why couldn't have been farther from the mark.

Anakin's head felt heavier with each step he took, cheeks aching from the gracious smiles he was obliged to offer every admirer who crossed his path. When at last he reached the chancellor, he felt on the brink of collapsing.

"Anakin, there you are! Come join us for a bit," Palpatine extended an arm to draw him in. Standing in his circle were roughly half a dozen senators, including Bail and Mon.

"I was just saying how I've missed senator Amidala tonight. I was so hoping to see her here," Palpatine said with disappointment. "It's not like her to miss such an event, and nobody seems to know where she is. I worry if she's all right."

Mon and Bail's anxiety was evident when Anakin glanced at them, and the silent pleading in their eyes was plain enough.

"I wouldn't worry, chancellor," Anakin's knees trembled against his will. "I saw her earlier today. She was… feeling rather lethargic from the heat and said she might retire early tonight." It wasn't a total lie, yet his stomach churned just the same. Mon threw him an appreciative look.

"That is a relief to know," Palpatine placed a hand over his heart. "These days, it's tempting to fear the worst. I confess I've grown somewhat paranoid after all the deaths and assassinations the senate has seen during the war. It's truly tragic," he added with a mournful sigh.

A murmur of agreement rose from the circle.

"Anakin, you're not looking so well," Palpatine observed after a moment.

"I'm afraid not," Anakin smiled wanly. "That's what I came to tell you, Excellency. I'd love to stay but my injuries won't permit me."

"Oh of course, I understand my boy. You have some well-earned rest and relaxation ahead of you. I'd be the last person to begrudge you that, after what you did for me today." Placing a compassionate arm across Anakin's shoulders, he angled him away from the others while pointing him toward the exit. "Your skill and bravery will not be forgotten, I can assure you that. But the time to properly reward that can wait. Go and restore your health, my friend."

"Thank you sir. I hope to be fully recovered soon."

"As I'm sure you will be," Palpatine reassured him. "Now don't let me keep you. Travel safely home and enjoy a peaceful night's sleep."

"Thank you again for understanding chancellor. Good evening," Anakin bowed.

He'd barely made two steps toward the door when Palpatine hastily added, "And Anakin, if you happen to see senator Amidala again before I do, tell her I hope she's feeling better."

Anakin hoped the glitch in his stride went unnoticed. "I will."

Neither Anakin nor anyone else witnessed a wicked smile spread across the chancellor's face as he watched the Jedi leave.

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	8. Chapter 7

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**Chapter 7**

More than a few angry motorists cursed Anakin's speeder that night, though their shouts fell on deaf ears traveling too fast to hear them anyway. By the time he screeched to a halt at the apartment balcony at 2100 hours, he'd left enough disgruntled citizens in his wake to fill an entire star destroyer.

Except for the faint glow of some phosphorescent plants in the living area, the apartment was dark. Anakin swore under his breath and killed the engine.

The soles of his boots didn't make a sound as he crossed the patio to open the balcony doors. Even quieter still were his footsteps on carpet, carrying him like a ghost across the room. And with the ethereal senses of a ghost, he heard the soft, steady breathing of someone sleeping nearby.

He approached the lounger from behind, knowing exactly who he'd find lying on the other side.

The delicate fabric of Padmé's nightgown draped over her every curve, the most prominent of which was the belly on which one of her hands rested. Feeling his knees give out at last, Anakin dropped to kneel beside her, choking as a dam of emotions finally burst.

_Force… _

He was almost afraid to reach for it, fearful the roundness would collapse the moment his hand made contact. He'd quickly discover this was just a dream, a hallucination triggered by his concussion. _But if this is a dream, at least let me savor it_, he decided at last, slowly raising his right hand before dropping it.

_No_. _The hand that touches it should be human_.

The ungloved, flesh palm of his other hand drew closer until he could feel her warmth with his fingertips. With his hand mere millimeters above the impressively swollen sphere, he drew a final breath to steady his nerves.

The last thing he'd expected was to have her belly come to his hand.

The kick had been strong enough to actually push his hand back.

Mouth hanging open, Anakin let his palm fall at last, the sensation sending a shock through him. Another kick thrust in the same spot, forceful and insistent as if aware of greeting its father for the first time. It wasn't out of the question, he realized as he cheeks grew warm. Not if it had inherited even half of his force sensitivity.

_Force_, he inhaled sharply. _I made this. The last time I was home…_ The memory of Varykino seven months earlier came back to him in a rush. How appropriate their child should be conceived at the very place they were married. On the same bed they'd first shared together as husband and wife, no less. It was so poetic, so–

Something jarred him from his reverie. He sensed another presence, a hidden force signature tucked behind the one kicking his hand. Tentatively shifting his palm to the other side of Padmé's belly, he gasped. There was no mistaking it. There were two inside.

_No wonder she looks like she's about to burst_, he thought with amazement. _Oh __Padmé__ …_

When she began to stir, Anakin wondered if he'd said her name out loud by accident. He quickly withdrew his hand and willed her to stay asleep.

"Don't wake up Padmé, you need your rest," he passed two fingers above her forehead, hoping she'd succumb to Jedi influence while semi-unconscious. Strong-willed and resistant as she was when awake, he couldn't be entirely certain it would work even now.

Thankfully it did. Breathing a contented sigh into her pillow, Padmé slipped back into a deep slumber, blissfully unaware of her husband's presence. Anakin smiled with relief before rocking back on his heels, and then frowned. That lounger couldn't be comfortable. She shouldn't subject herself to such mean accommodations, not when there was a perfectly good bed just down the hall. No pregnant wife of his was going to spend the night on a piece of living room furniture.

The trick would be transporting her to the bedroom without waking her. He stood to assess the physics of lifting her. Rubbing his chin, he had to admit it posed a challenge. Any angle he might use would jostle her belly and cause her to wake. A playful smirk crept across his face when he realized there was only one option – one which would make Obi-Wan extraordinarily grumpy if he were present.

Many would have found the situation comical. A woman with a bloated stomach floating through the air did look rather absurd, but Anakin levitated her to the bed without laughing. Lowering her onto the quilted blanket with the softest touch, he let his shoulders relax with a weary smile. She hadn't been much heavier than anticipated, but the day's action had taken its toll. He hadn't been completely dishonest with Obi-Wan and the chancellor. He was exhausted.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots and then his belt, tossing it all in a heap next to the nightstand. The mattress embraced his aching back as he surrendered to it. For several minutes he simply stared at the ceiling with hands folded over his chest. Despite every cell in his body feeling drained, he couldn't close his eyes.

He rolled onto his side and sought out Padmé's bulge in the dark. Just to verify one last time that it wasn't a figment of his imagination.

It was still there. He was still going to be a father. To twins.

And the many implications of that still had to be explored, much less reconciled.

But there would be plenty of time for that later. Tonight he wanted nothing more than to drink in his wife's closeness, for even in sleep her presence was soothing. Especially now that her presence contained the better half of their family.

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Dawn was peeking through gauzy curtains when Dormé knocked gently on her mistress' door. When there was no reply, she peered inside to make sure Padmé was well.

"Oh…!" she gasped quietly to herself.

Seeing Anakin's massive form crowding the bed with his feet hanging over the edge, Dormé promptly shut the door and stepped back. Her services clearly weren't needed that morning.

She was long gone by the time Anakin stirred from the remnants of sleep. He stretched both arms slowly, feeling his neck spasm from sleeping in one position all night. His head still ached, though not as fiercely as yesterday.

Yet it wasn't physical pain that tainted the sunrise outside their window, but the haunting echoes of a dream. A nightmare, one as devastating and soul-chilling as those he'd suffered years ago about his mother.

The only difference was it had taken him five times longer to fall back asleep after this one.

That, and he was five times more anxious to share it with Padmé this time around.

Anxious not only for her reaction, but for their mutual distress over not knowing how to change the outcome.

His brow furrowed as the vision replayed itself with grotesque clarity. He saw Padmé's face contorted in agony, bathed in perspiration and screaming for him… nothing but a gray void surrounding them, ready to close in at any moment to claim her in death… the faint cries of an infant that grew more and more distant as he strained to hear it.

Until there was nothing. Nothing but the shapeless gray void. The screams simply vanished along with the crying.

A shudder ran through him at the disturbingly lurid memory. Pushing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he forced himself up and glanced at Padmé still sleeping next to him.

He swore she'd never looked more like an angel. No less pure and innocent than the two lives she carried.

And never more in need of protecting at any cost.

_Obi-Wan couldn't be more wrong_, he thought while stalking to the fresher, hoping a shower would cleanse some of the dark recesses forming in his heart. _He says nothing has changed with our commitment to her safety. If that's what he thinks, he's the last person I can count on for help._

As if anyone in the Order could or would help, for that matter. They'd just as soon hand him and Padmé over to the Separatists than accept their marriage. They'd take one look at her swollen middle and erase every letter pertaining to the Chosen One prophecy, or at least never speak of it again. The collective shame he'd bring upon them wouldn't exactly earn any sympathy for his plight.

He sighed, letting the water sting his skin with more heat than he preferred. It was doing a decent job with his muscle aches but had minimal effect on his frustration.

Distracted as he was, he didn't hear the soft footsteps of his wife approaching before she knocked on the fresher door.

"Ani?"

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_I always found it absurd Anakin couldn't sense there were twins. So I corrected that. ;)_


	9. Chapter 8

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**Chapter 8**

Anakin threw back the shower curtain, sending water flying as he stood before Padmé, hair drenched and fully naked. All his worries seemed to evaporate at the sight of her beaming.

"Oh Anakin, you're finally home!" she rejoiced, taking an eager yet uncertain step toward him. She stopped a few feet away from the shower. Anakin sensed her hesitation and smiled.

"What's this, afraid of a little water?" he joked. "The woman who spent every summer swimming like a fish on Naboo?"

She looked bashfully up at him. "It's not that," she said quietly.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Before she could respond, Anakin stepped out and engulfed her in wet steaming arms, pressing a damp cheek against her hair.

"See, this isn't so awful. I doubt you were planning on wearing this nightgown all day anyway."

"I wasn't," she breathed in his warmth. "But Anakin…"

A pair of warm, wet lips swiftly silenced her.

He drew back to look into her eyes. "Mmm, were you about to say something?"

Padmé stared with speechless incredulity. "Anakin, I'd expect _you_ to say something, actually!"

"About what?" he feigned cluelessness.

At this point she realized what he was doing. "Just the yanga melon I'm hiding beneath my gown."

"Oh, _that!_" he pretended to see it for the first time. "Now that you've pointed it out, yes, I suppose it's somewhat noticeable," he murmured, cupping it tenderly with both hands.

_At least he doesn't seem upset_, Padmé thought with a rueful smile. "Is that all you have to say?"

"No. I'd also like to say this," he bent down to kiss her protruding belly button. "And this," he chose another spot to kiss on the side. "And this."

"Stop Ani, that tickles!" her belly shook with laughter.

He couldn't resist planting one last kiss on top before standing again. Padmé quietly searched his eyes, praying against her deepest fears that his actions meant what she thought they did.

"Does this mean you're happy?" she asked in awe.

"Oh Padmé, how can you even ask?" he sounded hurt, stung by her lack of faith. "How?"

"Y-yesterday at the clinic… you looked so severe, almost angry…"

"Padmé, no. I'm so sorry you took it that way. What you saw was my frustration at not being able to shout with joy in front of everyone else. It felt like my internal organs would explode from keeping silent," he explained. "You have no idea how difficult that was."

"I have something of an idea," her eyes moistened. "Seven months of not being able to tell you or anyone else has been miserable! Especially not knowing if you'd ever come back, or if you did, whether you'd love or hate me…"

"_What?_ Love or hate you? What can you possibly mean by that?"

"I… I feel so responsible," she choked. "I should have told you I was ovulating that night…"

"Padmé," he said gently. "Don't ever apologize or feel guilty. I could never hate you for giving me the greatest gift any man could ask for." She said nothing but relaxed against his frame. "Besides, do you really think I could've kept myself from you even if I knew? It had been five months, after all," he grinned, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist.

Wiping away a tear, Padmé gave a dry laugh. "Well, in any case, we're in quite the predicament now."

Anakin headed toward the bedroom with lips pressed, not yet ready to acknowledge their children as "predicaments." He'd barely learned of their existence and already was being asked to regard them as problematic rather than miraculous. It was patently unfair.

"I've lost sleep turning it over in my mind," Padmé sat on the bed while Anakin dressed. "What will this mean for us, Ani? What happens once the joy wears off? At some point we'll have to face the consequences, and I'm afraid what those will be."

Images of his recent nightmares flashed viciously through Anakin's mind as he sat next to her. "So am I," he admitted, biting his tongue to keep from revealing more. "But I refuse to let this blessed reunion be tainted by fear," he placed a hand on her stomach, hoping that by willing himself to focus on the positive, Padmé would follow suit.

Both remained silent while a flurry of movement rolled beneath her skin.

"Strong kicks," he smiled with pleasure. "Seems like you've been taking good care of them."

"_Them?_" Padmé blinked, astonished.

His smile broadened as he met her eyes. "There aren't many things you can keep secret from a Jedi. Not for long, anyway," he winked.

Padmé glanced down self-consciously. "I just found out they were twins yesterday."

"That can't have been the first time you saw a doctor?" Anakin's eyes widened.

"No," she hesitated.

Anakin was aghast at the shame he sensed from her. "Padmé, don't tell me you've neglected prenatal visits all this time?"

"I haven't… I just haven't gone as frequently as recommended," she replied with terse diplomacy.

"How infrequently are we talking?"

Padmé swallowed nervously. "Not since the third month."

Anakin looked as if a light saber had just skewered his torso. "_What?_ Why? How could you…?"

"Please, don't be angry with me!" she pleaded, tears springing to her eyes. "I didn't know what to do! I was so afraid of exposing our secret. Imagine if you'd returned home to find yourself expelled from the Order… I couldn't live with myself, Ani! I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"But you could forgive yourself if I came home to a dying wife and children?" he struggled to keep his voice from rising.

"I know the basics of staying healthy. And Dormé has plenty of knowledge, so between the two of us, I figured I'd be safe from complications," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry… I never meant to cause you any distress. My goal has always been just the opposite! Please Ani, believe me!"

Rubbing his eyes, Anakin drew a few deep breaths. "I believe you. I just wish you understood that losing you would be worse than expulsion. And to lose you _and_ the babies…" words failed him as he clenched his jaw, plagued anew by the harrowing visions of the night before.

"I'm sorry," Padmé tried soothing him. "But there's nothing to worry about. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health and said everything is fine."

The sudden hiccup in Anakin's breathing didn't go unnoticed by her.

"What's the matter? Don't you trust doctors?"

_Sometimes I think she's sensitive enough to be a Jedi_, Anakin grumbled to himself, knowing she'd uncover the source of his uneasiness if it took all day_. She needs to know sooner or later. May as well put myself out of my misery and tell her now_.

"I trust doctors," he began cautiously. "But their powers are limited, so to speak. They can only see what's in front of them, what's in the present. It's not that they're incompetent – just that their vision isn't as farsighted as others'," he chose his words carefully, slowly bringing his gaze up to her face.

"So you wish their medical paraphernalia included a crystal ball?" Padmé wrinkled her nose.

"Don't misunderstand, Padmé. Most of the time their treatments are perfectly adequate. But then," he took her hand in his, "most of their patients aren't as special as my wife."

"What's so special about me? I'm hardly the first woman to carry twins."

"No, but you're the first wife of a Jedi who's had foreboding dreams about her giving birth."

A heavy silence hung between them for a moment, Padmé taken aback by the revelation.

"What did you see?" her voice trembled despite herself.

Angst radiated from Anakin as he thrust himself onto his feet. "Take a guess," he stalked across the room to stare blankly out the window. "The worst case scenario. It's not hard to figure out. And I'll be helpless against it, just like I was with my mother!"

Padmé winced at the torment surging from deep inside her husband and raced to his side as quickly as she could. "Anakin, don't despair. Just because one dream was prophetic doesn't mean this one necessarily is."

"That's _exactly_ what it means!" he shot back.

"How can you be sure–"

"Padmé, you haven't seen what I have!" he took her by the shoulders. "These aren't just regular nightmares. Those come and go all the time, but _this_…"

The fiery conviction in his eyes silenced her. No amount of reasoning would ease his worry, and no logic could uproot the primal fear planted in his soul. For a brief yet terrifying moment, Padmé inhaled that fear, and the solid foundation of her faith grew a hairline crack.

"Maybe we shouldn't try to do this alone after all," she whispered. "We could seek help. Perhaps Obi-Wan…"

Anakin tensed at the name. "No! The clinic was a close enough call as it was. I'll be lucky if I don't get one of his famous lectures today about letting go of my 'juvenile attachment' to you," he snorted. "The last thing he needs is more fuel to scold me with. He'd love that."

"Then who can you turn to, Anakin? If not your own mentor, the only father figure in your life, then who?"

"Nobody," he declared. "I'll find the power to save you myself, Padmé. There has to be a secret the Jedi have been keeping from me all these years. I won't stop until I find it, even if it means working night and day for the next two months."

Padmé stared in wonder, too stunned by his presumptive arrogance to respond right away.

"Just promise me one thing, Ani."

"What?"

"If my due date approaches and you still haven't found what you're looking for, remember what you said about losing me versus expulsion."

His eyes burned into her before looking away.

"Don't let pride cloud your judgment. That's all I'm asking," she sighed, pressing against him to plead her case. Her belly writhed as it made contact with his, its occupants reinforcing her request. Anakin said nothing as he stroked the movements with his flesh hand.

"It won't come to that, I promise," he said at last. "I'm the most powerful Jedi of all. The Force will guide me."

Any further discussion was cut short by Anakin's comlink beeping.

"It's Obi-Wan," he snarled. "I have to go, but I'll be back later this afternoon."

Planting a kiss first on her forehead and then on her stomach, he held her gaze one last time before heading toward the door.

"I love you," he said in a low voice. "Be safe while I'm away."

Padmé's conflicting emotions upon seeing him leave were stalled by Dormé's appearance soon after. Finding her mistress still in need of dressing assistance, Dormé couldn't have guessed that despite Anakin having responded as she'd predicted, Padmé's anxiety had doubled since last night.

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	10. Chapter 9

_Thanks to everyone for reviewing! From the sounds of it, nobody's sure which way this story will go. Excellent. (Rubs hands together) Drama/Suspense is the category, baby. :}_

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**Chapter 9**

Obi-Wan continued pacing even after he spotted Anakin climbing the steps toward him. Hands folded within his robe, he waited with stoic patience as his apprentice bounded three stairs at a time on his way up.

"You're looking much better this morning," Obi-Wan remarked when a flushed Anakin landed at his side.

"Good as new."

"Glad to hear it. We all need to be sharp for today's council meeting," he turned to walk alongside Anakin. "Master Yoda has several issues of importance to discuss with us."

_As always_, Anakin thought irritably. _Just once I'd like to be asked what _I _consider 'of importance.'_

"Anakin," Obi-Wan paused at the door of the council chamber, folding his arms. "If you want to earn a seat in this room, you have to learn to set your impatience aside. Among other things," he muttered with a vague frown. "Which reminds me – I'd like to speak to you privately after the meeting, so don't go anywhere."

"Very well, master," Anakin tried to stifle his aggravation but Obi-Wan sensed it nonetheless.

"It is an honor to be included in these sessions, my apprentice," he reminded him. "Do try to remember that."

Anakin didn't reply as he and Obi-Wan passed into the circular room, bowing before the latter stepped across to his chair.

"Good morning, Master Kenobi. Young Skywalker," Yoda greeted them. "Looking well and refreshed, you both are. Glad are we to see this after yesterday's events."

"The Chancellor sends his sincerest thanks," Mace Windu spoke. "Along with a generous fruit basket," he nodded toward an extravagant arrangement off to the side. Towering at nearly four feet high, it was overflowing with the most exotic fruits cut into even more exotic shapes.

"That looks delicious. Something to look forward to when we're finished," Obi-Wan commented. "But we understand there are more pressing matters first. Master Yoda?"

"Indeed. Three issues there are on today's agenda. Begin we shall with the most recently developed."

"As you well know, general Grievous' escape makes Palpatine's rescue only half successful," Windu continued, ignoring Anakin's indignant glare. "Capturing him is undoubtedly the key to ending this war. With Dooku dead, all our efforts must be focused on that directive now."

"Agreed," Obi-Wan concurred. "What measures do you suggest?"

Windu sighed. "That's a point of some contention. We want to allocate nearly two thirds of our squadrons to seek him out, but the Chancellor won't approve it. He's concerned it will leave too many other regions vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to what? Surely he can see the Separatist fleet is losing momentum," Obi-Wan mused. "Dooku's death struck an exceptionally heavy blow. It seems to me there's never been a better time to take such a risk."

"Our thoughts exactly. But we can't seem to convince the Chancellor to see it that way."

"Very troubling this is. Understand his reasoning we cannot," Yoda frowned.

"He'll permit one dozen squadrons, no more," Windu frowned as well. "It could take years with so few troops!"

Obi-Wan nodded. "It very well could. And the last thing anyone wants is to drag this ugly affair out any longer… or so I thought," he added skeptically.

"He's either unaware of the public's sentiment or unsympathetic to it, either of which is reprehensible in a senator, much less a Chancellor."

Yoda clasped his hands. "Brings us to another issue, this does. Palpatine's popularity has been growing for some time, and has only increased since his return. More powerful this makes him, when already he enjoys more power than is prudent."

"So ironically, he could end up influencing public opinion on this matter rather than the other way around," Obi-Wan rubbed his beard. "Not good."

"It's possible. I have to say the entire situation makes me extremely uneasy," Mace leaned back, exchanging glances with Yoda.

"Uneasy, yes. Especially since unable to identify the disturbance in the force, we have been. Sense the shadow of the Sith in this, somehow do I. Further meditation is necessary. On everyone's part, very necessary," Yoda looked at Anakin for a long moment before scanning the rest of the room.

"Now more than ever," Obi-Wan agreed.

Anakin took the opportunity to speak. "Forgive me masters, but what good has meditation done us the past three years? We're no closer to discovering the source of this disturbance now than when the war began."

"A strong criticism, young one," Yoda pursed his lips. "What suggest you, then?"

Drawing a breath, Anakin reveled at being asked that question. "Stop daydreaming and get to the bottom of it already. We can't just sit on our hands up here all day and expect results to magically appear. I say we launch a proper investigation to uncover it once and for all!"

"Easier said than done, Anakin," Obi-Wan interjected. "Between strategizing the war and training younglings, the council doesn't have as much free time as you imply. Very few minutes of the day are spent sitting on one's hands, you'll find."

"If time is scarce, perhaps we should reprioritize it."

"And you would reshuffle it for us?" Obi-Wan balked at his insolence. "You forget yourself, Padawan. You were invited here this morning as a guest, an observer, not as a full member. Your heroism yesterday does not suddenly grant you the right to presume equal–"

"Master Kenobi," Yoda raised a three-fingered hand. "While presumptive Skywalker may be, an interesting proposal he does make."

Obi-Wan exhaled reluctantly. Mace, meanwhile, watched the scene with reserved captivation.

"Nothing to lose have we by considering alternate approaches. However, your points are valid as well, Obi-Wan," Yoda rested his chin on his hands. "If unable to spare anyone we are, then perhaps he who proposed this idea should volunteer to execute it, hmm?"

Anakin blinked. "You want _me_ to lead the investigation, master?"

"Able and motivated, are you not?"

"Y-yes, I just wasn't expecting to be given such a great responsibility."

Yoda threw a subtle look in Obi-Wan's direction. "What you wanted, I suspected this was. Prove yourself to the council it may. Use this opportunity wisely, young one."

"I will," Anakin straightened his posture. "But what means will I have at my disposal? Am I to work alone, or can I choose others to corroborate with?"

Yoda pondered the question for a minute. "Alone should you work. We cannot risk our efforts being sabotaged, not when we know not who may be aligned with the Sith. Trust no one, Skywalker. Not even those whom you may have trusted for many years," he held Anakin's gaze sternly.

"Understood. Shall I report to Obi-Wan or the council?"

"To the council directly. Your association with Obi-Wan is too well known. Keep him safely removed from this operation, we must."

Anakin glanced down at Obi-Wan, who seemed to be directing all his energy into keeping his mouth shut.

"Would it be acceptable for me to begin immediately?" Anakin asked.

Mace and Yoda conferred silently before turning back to them.

"The remainder of this meeting doesn't pertain to you," Windu declared. "You're free to go, but remember the conditions under which you are to proceed."

Nodding as he bowed, Anakin tried to contain his eagerness. "Absolutely. Thank you for this opportunity, masters. I vow to do whatever it takes to solve this mystery."

"May the force be with you more than ever," Yoda nodded in reply.

No sooner had Anakin turned on his heel when Obi-Wan sought his attention once more.

"Anakin, good luck," he said with reluctance, displeased at losing the chance to speak with him later as planned. "You may not be able to share details with me, but if you should need advice, you know where to find me."

"Of course, master. We'll keep in touch, don't worry. As you said, someone has to transport me from the clinic next week," he added, smiling despite himself.

"How could I forget," Obi-Wan rejoined, saying nothing else until the younger Jedi had departed.

"What is this clinic appointment he speaks of?" Yoda inquired.

"Oh, he's scheduled to have his prosthetic arm replaced," Obi-Wan answered. "I doubt he thinks of much else lately."

Yoda's eyelids fell slightly. "Hmm. So sure I would not be. Sense other preoccupations in him, I do."

Disconcerted at the reminder, Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "Yes, well, you've certainly given him plenty to occupy himself with now. Master Yoda, pardon me if I seriously question your decision to grant him autonomy over this mission."

"I meant to cause you no anxiety, Obi-Wan," Yoda said calmly. "Of your concerns regarding young Skywalker, we have all long been aware. But perhaps strictness and control are not what he needs in every situation. Considered this, have you ever?"

"No, I confess not," Obi-Wan fought his exasperation. "Tell me, what is your reasoning?"

"For as long as you have worried about his character, he has worried about proving himself. It is possible that this mutual anxiety fuels itself in some way. If given the right opportunity, the cycle might break itself at last. Proving himself would settle both of your spirits."

"And if he doesn't prove himself?"

"We must be willing to risk failure in the pursuit of noble causes," Yoda advised. "Uncertain the future may be, but peace and glory I sense just beyond the horizon."

_I wish I did_, Obi-Wan thought. _Then again, if Yoda is right, it could just be entrenched cynicism. But who could blame me? Thirteen years is a long time to hold one's breath…_

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	11. Chapter 10

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**Chapter 10**

Anakin's traffic violations weren't quite as severe as the previous night, though he did create a few snarls on his way to the senate building. _First the twins, and now this_, his mind raced with exhilaration as he wove in-between speeders. _And a new arm next week… this has to be the best homecoming in the history of the universe._

Part of him worried that if any more good fortune came his way, it all might implode on itself. Yet that part was slowly sinking beneath another thought: that this wave wouldn't stop until it had carried him to the very end, leaving nothing unresolved. That included Padmé's safety along with the Sith enigma.

And with the way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if both solutions revealed themselves simultaneously.

_Yes_, he gripped the steering wheel with conviction. _This mission is the key. Somehow it will unlock everything, including the power I need for Padmé. Where one mystery abides, so does the other._

Of nothing else had he ever felt so certain.

Perhaps because nothing else had ever been so ideal. The latitude he'd been given, the freedom from Obi-Wan's hovering presence… it was enough to leave him light-headed. How long had he waited for this? A single chance, grand and glorious in its potential, and unequivocally his. Not a single other individual with whom to divide the spoils or share the pedestal. He'd sink his teeth into this like a Corellian wildebeest steak.

He still couldn't believe the council's decision. Or rather Yoda's decision. No one had exactly whooped in agreement at the little green master's suggestion. Not that it mattered. Soon they'd recognize what they'd stubbornly refused to all these years. Soon they'd make way for the newest master, bowing before the most powerful Jedi as he alighted on his throne.

Soon he'd have a family, a rightful place of honor on the council, and the leverage to sanction that family in the council's eyes. All this before his twenty-third birthday.

The grin was almost impossible to remove from his face as he landed at the senate building. By the time he reached the chancellor's office minutes later, it had faded somewhat but the edges still pulled slightly upward. That is, until he realized the office door was locked.

Two voices could be heard conversing in muffled tones behind the wall. So hushed were they that even with his ear pressed against the door, Anakin couldn't decipher their words. Presumably one of them was Palpatine, but his guest remained a mystery – one which the locked door was clearly intended to keep.

Hesitating, Anakin considered his options. Which would be worse: the chancellor's distaste with Anakin seeing his guest's identity, or the council's disappointment if he failed to gain valuable insight from it?

The dilemma was resolved sooner than he expected. With little warning, the lock disengaged, and he backpedaled just in time for Mas Amedda to pass by.

The speaker's blue face was grim, even more so than usual, Anakin noted. Whatever he'd just discussed obviously hadn't improved his mood. Aside from a split-second glance he threw in the Jedi's direction, he offered no acknowledgment as he stalked past.

"Anakin, is that you?" Palpatine called from beyond the door.

"Good morning chancellor," Anakin turned his shoulder to Amedda and walked inside. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"No, of course not my boy. Your timing couldn't be better. I was just about to send for you," he welcomed Anakin inside with a smile. "May I say you seem much improved this morning! A good night's rest has done you good!"

"Thank you sir. I only wish my mind felt as refreshed as the rest of me," Anakin followed him to a pair of red velvet chairs off to the side.

"Something troubles you?"

"I've just come from the Jedi council meeting. Let's just say my thoughts are heavier now than when I woke this morning."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Palpatine frowned, then appeared reflective. "But… not necessarily surprised."

"How do you mean?"

Palpatine's face fell as if a great sorrow weighed upon his heart. "Anakin, I think it's time you knew certain details about this war that may have been kept from you. Come here," he walked over to his desk, activating a datapad before presenting it to Anakin.

"These are the casualty reports from the past month," he explained. "For the red squadron alone. This represents a mere fraction of the losses we have recently suffered."

Anakin stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief at the figures. They were astonishingly high.

Still appearing stricken, Palpatine withdrew it from Anakin's sight. "I take it you had no idea of these numbers."

"No."

"As I suspected," Palpatine shook his head. "Always the last to know. A great injustice and disservice, if you ask me."

The pride he'd felt earlier began to fade. "I don't understand… Obi-Wan's led me to believe the Separatists are suffering more than we. He insists the tide is turning in our favor, and has been for some time. Why would he mislead or exaggerate to such a degree?"

"That is what I planned on summoning you to discuss. Too much is at stake for me to remain silent or neutral any longer," Palpatine sighed, turning to the window with hands clasped behind his back. "Would I be correct in assuming the council told you of its disapproval with my troop allocation?"

"Yes," Anakin admitted.

A knowing smile tugged at Palpatine's lips. "Yet they failed to provide you with the whole story, didn't they? The big picture. They would boil everything down to a timetable and nothing more. But I cannot only measure success in terms of expediency, Anakin. The human cost is no less a part of the equation."

"What reason would the council have to favor speed over lives?"

"A very germane question," Palpatine said solemnly. "One whose answer you may not be prepared for."

"I'm listening."

"Very well," the chancellor drew a breath. "It is with a heavy heart that I tell you this. I have long suspected the Jedi council is plotting against me, even designing to overthrow the senate and take control of the Republic."

Anakin blanched. "That's absurd! What evidence could you possibly have? Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but I find your accusations insulting and unfounded!"

"I warned you might not be prepared for it," Palpatine remained calm despite Anakin's indignation. "And as for evidence, I just presented you with the most recent piece. This isn't the first instance of reckless strategy on the council's part, Anakin. I've lost count of the many times they demanded more troops or executed maneuvers more aggressive than I felt comfortable with. I cooperated in the vain hope that doing so would appease them, and that eventually I could wean them from such brutal tactics. But to no avail."

"So because their approach is more proactive than yours, you automatically assume treason?"

"Anakin, this isn't merely about stylistic differences! As chancellor, I'm certainly no stranger to those. Compromise and negotiation are as central to my vocation as the Force is to yours," Palpatine replied. "But equally central for me is the ability to interpret actions and deduce motives. Without it, my position in the senate would surely be the weakest."

Though Anakin's hackles remained somewhat raised, they were lowering in response to Palpatine's smooth exposition. "What motives have you interpreted for the council, then?"

"For someone with as many years in politics as I, it isn't difficult to infer," he pursed his lips. "They believe ending the war will earn the public's undivided support. In addition to undermining my authority and influence – and that of the senate at large – they will have depleted much of our army, making the transition to power all the easier. Fewer troops mean fewer chances of loyalist uprisings among the ranks."

Anakin contemplated the theory for a minute. Disturbing as it was to consider, there wasn't any logical fallacy in the chancellor's reasoning. Especially not in light of the fact that the council hadn't exactly been forthright with the war's darker details. At this point, he wasn't certain which troubled him more: their dishonesty or Palpatine's broader allegations.

"Chancellor, you said you'd long suspected this plot. How long?"

"The better part of a year, I'd estimate."

"And you thought it best to keep these suspicions to yourself all this time?"

"By the time I began to seriously suspect anything, the war was too underway, the political dynamic well established. I couldn't risk acting impulsively and losing what little influence I still had."

"The council doesn't consider your power to be endangered."

Smiling disarmingly, Palpatine met Anakin's gaze. "Anakin, stop and think. If the council sees fit to underemphasize certain details, isn't it possible they could overemphasize others? All for the sake of promoting their cause?"

Anakin had no immediate response, and Palpatine continued.

"Much emphasis is being placed on ending the war and monitoring my power. Perhaps it's time you considered why." He paced slowly, taking in the cityscape with his chin raised. "One has to wonder if it's all to divert your attention from the grander scheme. Because let's face it Anakin – if anyone in the Order is capable of uncovering their secrets, it's you. Don't think for a minute they don't know it."

"Am I really that great of a threat?" Anakin asked himself as much as Palpatine.

"I've said it all along, Anakin – your power and potential are unmatched throughout the galaxy," Palpatine affirmed, smiling again. "I wouldn't be surprised if they arranged something else to specifically distract you. A special mission, perhaps. Just enough to keep you off the scent."

His words caused the floor to drop from beneath Anakin's feet. A special mission, just for him, absorbing all his time and attention for the foreseeable future… it was all starting to make sickening sense. Yoda _had_ been uncharacteristically generous in granting him this mission. Even more uncharacteristic was Obi-Wan's silent acquiescence, not to mention the rest of the council's.

It was too good to be true after all. And he'd lapped it up like the foolish puppy they took him for.

"I can see you're unsettled by all this, as anyone would be," Palpatine remarked. "You need time to think it through, decide what course of action to take. Go and meditate on it, and if you feel the time to act is at hand, you know where to find me."

"Indeed," Anakin muttered, folding his arms as Palpatine guided him out. "I suppose I am in your debt, chancellor. Who knows how long I'd have stayed ignorant of this subterfuge if not for you."

"Oh, I'm confident you'd have discovered it in due time. Your intuition has always served you well. Which is precisely why they've gone to so much trouble to distract you."

"Thank you nonetheless. I'll be in touch," Anakin bowed, keeping his face as stoic as possible.

Two things went unnoticed as he walked down the corridor in taut silence.

First was the fiendish smile with which Palpatine deleted the false data from his datapad as soon as Anakin disappeared around the corner.

Second was the echo of Yoda's words, growing fainter with each step he took: "_Trust no one, Skywalker. Not even those whom you may have trusted for many years." _

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	12. Chapter 11

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**Chapter** **11**

Forks clinked against fine china as the Skywalkers ate their evening meal. C3PO's hovering presence only added to the semi-awkward tension between them; seeing Anakin's food had nearly disappeared, the droid stepped forward.

"May I bring you an additional serving, master Anakin?"

"Sure, Threepio. Thanks," he handed the plate over, wiping his mouth on a napkin as the droid trotted away.

Padmé swallowed some of her milk and set the glass down with a tentative smile. "You have quite the appetite tonight. Eating more than I do these days, which is saying something."

"Mm."

"You also seem distracted," she tried to catch his eyes. "If you'd like to finish our conversation from this morning –"

"I wouldn't," he interrupted. Then, regretting his curt tone, he glanced up with a wan smile. "At least, not right now. We haven't shared a nice, quiet dinner together in seven months. Let's just enjoy it."

C3PO returned before Padmé could respond, presenting a full plate of food to Anakin. "Here you are, master. I'm pleased my culinary skills are to your satisfaction."

"Yes, it's very good Threepio."

"Thank you sir. Mistress Padmé shares your sentiment as well. It's been somewhat of a challenge keeping her adequately fed the past several months, but I believe my skills have improved for it."

Anakin couldn't help but steal a meaningful glance at his wife, smirking as he cut into his potato.

"You've done well, Threepio. It couldn't have been easy with her eating for three."

"Quite. Oh, master Anakin, I just realized I haven't properly congratulated you yet," C3PO added with a start. "Let me say your offspring will be a most welcome addition to this household, sir. I look forward to caring for them with all the attentiveness infants need."

That comment nearly caused Anakin to choke while swallowing. Coughing a few times, he rinsed his throat clear with water.

"Thank you Threepio, but that won't be necessary. Padmé will be taking senatorial leave for a while, and Dormé will be the twins' nurse maid after that." He tried to banish the images of C3PO fumbling to diaper a child with stiff metallic hands, or trying to burp a newborn over his cold, hard shoulder. It would almost be comical if it weren't so alarming.

"Oh. I see. Very well then. I shall be happy to perform whatever duties my masters see fit for me to do," his bruised ego was evident as he retreated back to the kitchen.

They watched him leave, making certain he was out of earshot before releasing their laughter.

"Can you imagine?" Anakin shook with mirth.

"I'd rather not," Padmé raised her eyebrows dubiously.

"Where did he get the idea he'd be their caretaker?"

"I haven't a clue. But that's not the half of it. Would you believe he mistook _this_," she pointed to her stomach, "as unhealthy weight gain?"

Anakin spit what was left in his mouth. "You're joking!"

Padmé shook her head. "As of yesterday morning, he was still under that impression. He even politely suggested I go on a diet!"

"Well, at least he was _polite_ about it!" Anakin ran a hand through his hair. "Force, I thought I'd programmed him better than that. Not the paragon of protocol droids, is he?"

"Not always, no," Padmé smiled. "But he tries his best."

They continued to chuckle for a few minutes before the quiet tension returned. Pushing her food around her plate absently, Padmé kept silent until they finished and called for C3PO to clear the table.

Soon it was just the two of them in the living area, seated on the lounger Padmé had almost spent the previous night on.

"You don't know how good it feels to sit on a proper sofa again," Anakin let his head fall back, closing his eyelids halfway. "Or sleep in our bed. I can't remember the last time I slept so well. Well, I take that back… I _can_ remember," he amended, smiling impishly as he laid a hand on Padmé's belly.

"I remember too," she blushed. "How can I forget when the reminder is growing larger every day?"

Anakin's smile deepened. "So it is. Or should I say _they_ are."

"Yes, they'll know if we're being grammatically incorrect," Padmé teased. Then she thought a moment. "Ani, can you sense their genders?"

He opened his eyes fully now. "You didn't find out at the clinic yesterday?"

"No, I… didn't think to ask. With all the commotion and stress, it slipped my mind."

"Oh. I'm sorry sweetheart, but the Force doesn't work that way," he said gently. "Force signatures aren't gender-specific. If I walked into a room with my eyes closed, I could count the number of people present, but I couldn't tell you how many were men or women."

Padmé nodded, disappointed but resigned. "Then I guess it will have to remain a surprise. I can't risk any unnecessary trips to the clinic."

"Can't you just call for the results?"

"No, Bail ordered them to erase my visit from their records. It's as though I was never there."

"How'd he manage that?"

"A little political bullying," she answered coyly. "I didn't witness it, but he assured me the matter was settled."

Anakin grinned. "Good old Bail. He's a tough one when it counts."

"He's a great friend," Padmé sighed. "He and Mon were both so kind and understanding about all this. More than they needed to be, really."

"Very protective, too. You should have seen the look he gave me and Obi-Wan when we approached you. You'd think he was guarding his own daughter from a bounty hunter!"

Padmé seemed less amused by this than he expected. Her eyes fell to her lap, where she pinched and crinkled the folds of her lightweight gown. "He knows how important it is to me to keep this a secret," she said quietly.

Though neither said anything for a minute, their thoughts were anything but silent. When it became obvious that Anakin's jaw was all but clamped shut, Padmé swallowed her pride and reached for his hand.

"You may not want to talk about your nightmare, but we at least need to discuss logistics," she chose her words carefully. "What you said earlier, about me taking senatorial leave… that's only the beginning."

His hand tensed beneath hers. "Can't the 'logistics' wait for some other night?"

She laughed once, turning to him with bemusement. "In case you haven't noticed, time is a luxury we don't have," she glanced down to prove her point. "We can't afford to procrastinate much longer, Ani. Two months is all we have. Well, most likely less than that," she corrected.

"What do you mean, less than that?" he looked up sharply.

"Twins tend to come early," she informed him. "Often by a full month."

The panic in Anakin's eyes was brief but noticeable. Blinking to clear it away, his gaze grew even more distant than during dinner.

"Oh," he said numbly. "I never knew that before. So… _one_ month?" he almost choked. "Four weeks instead of eight?"

"Possibly, give or take. There's no guarantee, but it is statistically the norm."

"Sith," he muttered while standing up.

"I told you we don't have time to waste," Padmé reiterated. "Now will you consider discussing this?"

He combed both sets of fingers through his shaggy hair. "Looks like I don't have much of a choice."

"I'm sorry, Anakin. Life doesn't always go as conveniently as we'd like. Our responsibilities can't just be ignored."

"No, but they can't all be resolved at once, either."

"Come sit back down," she invited. "There's a lot to cover but if we take our time, it might not feel so overwhelming."

His sigh was a half laugh. "Sometimes I envy your optimism," he perched on the edge of the cushion, spine stiff and neck tense.

Padmé lightly massaged his shoulder. "It's not optimism. It's being level-headed about it. If I'm not mistaken, we covered some of this shortly after we got married. Do you remember?"

Anakin's brow creased as he tried to. "No."

"That's all right, it was a long time ago," she replied. "And we may see things differently now, but at least it's a starting point."

"What did we say?"

"Well, we said we each wanted children, and the ideal plan was to wait until the war was over. But we also knew that nature has a way of going its own course, so we needed a contingency plan in case we were… surprised."

Anakin offered a crooked smile. "Indeed."

"We basically identified three options, but we couldn't decide which was preferable. The first was for you to resign from the Order. Whether you confessed everything to the council or not would be up to you."

Nodding, he internally flinched at the idea. "Let me guess, the second option involves you resigning from the senate."

"Correct, which would mean still keeping our marriage a secret," she pressed her lips. "Or lastly, mutual resignation – we both step away from our respective positions, quietly retire somewhere and all but vanish from the galactic theater."

Anakin rubbed one of his knees distractedly. "With so many tempting choices, I can see why it was difficult for us to choose," he remarked, sighing. "Are we absolutely certain there's nothing else?"

"I'm afraid not. I could stall by taking senatorial leave, as you mentioned, but eventually our time will be up and we'll have to decide."

"So let me get this straight: either one of us has to abandon their career, or we both abandon them _and_ face financial uncertainty?"

Padmé swallowed. "That's the negative way of putting it, I suppose."

"It's the _real_ way, Padmé. Let's face it, whatever we choose will require significant sacrifice. Don't try to sugarcoat it."

"I don't mean to sugarcoat anything," she responded. "I just… don't want to lose sight of the light in the darkness. The whole reason we're faced with this sacrifice, Ani. This miracle," she tenderly caressed her stomach.

Anakin saw a tear brimming under her eyelid. "I haven't forgotten, angel," he said softly. "I'm sorry. There's been a lot on my mind the past thirty-six hours."

Padmé sensed a hidden gravity to his words, adding to the unpleasant distance she'd seen in his eyes all evening. Times like these were when she wished most for Jedi intuition. Then again, it didn't take a psychic to suspect the underlying issue.

"Ani, I need you to be unabashedly honest with me," she faced him with quivering courage. "Are you happy about the babies? _Truly?_"

When he didn't answer immediately, she braced for the worst. The fact that his eyes grew distant yet again only confirmed her fears. _I knew it. He isn't ready for this. He blames me for everything… on some level, he'll always resent me for ruining our lives._

"Padmé, you know how my thoughts lingered on you during the ten years we were apart?"

Caught off guard, she nodded, cheeks reddening slightly.

"After Obi-Wan told me how pregnancy happens, I… daydreamed about experiencing it with you. Quite often, actually." It was his turn to blush self-consciously. "Let's just say I rarely spent my Jedi meditations visualizing what I was supposed to. If Obi-Wan only knew how often I fantasized about it, he'd be completely scandalized."

Padmé's eyes widened as she ran her hands across her belly. "You mean… you've wanted this ever since you were a boy?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly a _boy_ at that point," he gave her a loaded glance, "but yes."

He watched as the revelation trickled into her soul, softening the edge of her fears.

"You never daydreamed about _this_ scenario, I'll bet," she looked up sadly. "The timing is all wrong, Ani. It's distracting us, stealing the joy we should be feeling. It breaks my heart."

"It may not match perfectly with my teenage visions, but then again, few things do," he winked. "It just takes a little while for me to reconcile logistics with the joy I feel, that's all."

Letting her head fall onto his shoulder, Padmé sighed. "I don't want to rush the process for you, but we don't have much time, Ani. We need to decide soon."

"I know," he whispered. "I know. Just let me think about it some more. I'll sleep on it tonight, maybe tomorrow too."

He could feel her tremble faintly against his side. As Coruscant's red-tinged sunset descended over their huddled forms, he closed his eyes and inhaled, seeking calm in the midst of a million specters and fears.

"We'll figure this out, I promise," he stated. "No power in the universe could keep me from protecting you… or us."

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_Not sure if the inability to sense gender is canon or not. Humor me if it isn't.  
Isn't it funny that "Sith" and "Sh*t" are composed of the same letters? Yeah, I just noticed that for the first time writing this story. Sometimes I'm a little slow..._


	13. Chapter 12

_The kind responses are appreciated as always! Hope this continues to please. I should mention I've completed 35 chapters total so far, aiming for a final count of 38.  
__So sit back and enjoy the ride. :)_

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**Chapter 12**

Anakin had barely pried his eyes open when the comlink on the nightstand rang out its all-too familiar jingle. Scowling at the morning sun piercing the curtains, he sent a fumbling, sleep-laden hand to reach for it. A few knocks and bumps later and he held the device before his nose, squinting at the ID screen. It wasn't a name or number he recognized. _Not Obi-Wan_, he thought with equal parts relief and confusion.

"Hello?" he rubbed the sand out of his eyes.

"Is this Mr. Skywalker?" came a friendly female voice. Far too friendly for this early hour.

"Yes…"

"Good morning sir. This is nurse Vela at Dr. Tran's office. We're calling to let you know there's been a cancellation in our schedule, and we have an earlier opening available for your procedure."

"Oh?"

"If it's not too inconvenient, we could admit you in an hour."

"An hour?" he sat up in bed as Padmé stirred awake. "Wow… that's…"

"We realize it's very short notice," Vela said apologetically. "You're free to decline without losing your original appointment."

Anakin pinched his nose in an attempt to clear the sleep from his brain. One hour… what had he planned for this morning? Another council meeting? No… he was still on assignment, autonomous and undercover for the time being. His mornings were technically his to do with as he pleased.

"No, it's fine," he saw Padmé watching him curiously. "I'll take it. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Well, as you know, this is an outpatient procedure, so you'll need someone to transport you home afterward."

"Right," his mind flashed to Obi-Wan, hoping his schedule could be interrupted.

"Very good then. We'll see you in one hour, Mr. Skywalker!"

"Thank you," he added before disconnecting.

"Who was that?" Padmé yawned.

"The clinic. They offered me an earlier slot for my procedure this morning," he kicked off the sheets and set his feet on the floor. "And I accepted."

"This morning?" her face broke into a smile. "What a wonderful surprise! Oh Ani, I can't wait to see the end result!" she slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed; Anakin walked around to help her up. "Are you ready? Mentally, I mean?"

He smirked, though his mind was still racing. "Of course I am. Now I just need to contact Obi-Wan and see if _he's_ ready."

"He's bringing you there and back?"

Anakin nodded, flinging clean clothes from his dresser onto the bed. "I should be released by late afternoon, but knowing Obi-Wan, he'll insist that I stay at the temple overnight for observation." He stretched an undershirt over his head. "I probably won't make it back here until later tomorrow."

"I understand," Padmé masked the disappointment from her face. "As long as you're in good hands, I can be patient."

"That's why I love you," he planted a kiss on her forehead. "Among many other reasons."

As he began to pull away to complete his outfit, he felt a tugging resistance on his right forearm. Looking down, he stared uncomprehendingly at Padmé holding it tightly in her grasp, gazing at it as if it were an old heirloom photo.

"It's hard to believe the next time I see you, this will be gone," she said softly.

"You're going to _miss_ it?" Anakin balked.

Her lips pressed thoughtfully. "Yes and no. I want you to feel more human, more whole… but at the same time, _this_ is familiar. It's been like this our entire marriage. It's part of who I've fallen more in love with over the past three years."

Anakin tried to see it as she did, regarding it as a symbol of their relationship rather than an uncomfortable reminder as he usually did. He watched the early morning sun glint off the coils and conduits as he rotated them.

Suddenly he understood. For Padmé, this was the hand she held while they exchanged vows three years ago. The hand that timidly caressed her on their wedding night, touching her velvet skin with a lightness that gave her chills. One of the two hands that encased her each time they made love. Including the instance that conceived their children.

"I'm sure they'd let me keep it if I asked," he suggested, not knowing what else to say.

She shook her head, dropping her gaze self-consciously. "Don't do that. It wouldn't be the same… it might be, well, a little strange," she looked up with an uncertain smile.

"You're probably right," Anakin laughed. "Sorry."

"It's all right. Now you'd better get going, you don't want to be late," Padmé released his arm after trailing her fingers down its length one last time.

He kissed her again and practically skipped to the door despite himself. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll miss you," he grinned.

"Only once you're awake enough to," she grinned back.

"True. See you tomorrow, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too. I just hope I recognize the man who comes back," she smiled as he left to contact Obi-Wan.

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Traffic was growing congested by the time Obi-Wan arrived at the 500 Republica lobby. He'd had to make a few uncomfortable maneuvers to arrive there on time, but at least Anakin was in sight when he did.

"So, today's the big day," he greeted with arms crossed.

"Evidently," Anakin said breathlessly as they headed to Obi-Wan's vehicle.

Clicking his safety belt into place, the elder Jedi glanced back at the prestigious apartment building. "Anakin, I've never been one to inquire about your whereabouts, but I have to ask – what _were_ you doing at 500 Republica?"

Anakin drew upon one of the many alibis he'd devised for moments like these. "Just visiting a friend, one who lets me stay with them often." _Not a lie. Not by a long shot_. He threw a critical look in Obi-Wan's direction. "You should try it sometime, master. Having friends outside the temple."

"Friends are attachments, Anakin," came the curt reply. "Be careful."

"I'm being _very_ careful. I'm letting you drive, aren't I?"

Obi-Wan gave him a withering look. "I'm in no mood for this today. Thanks to you, I've had to reschedule several important meetings." He frowned at the traffic jam in front of them. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

"Fine. No more smart comments..."

"Thank you."

"…until _after_ the procedure."

Obi-Wan didn't dignify it with a response.

"It'd be too late for you to back out then. You wouldn't abandon me in such a vulnerable state."

"Don't be so sure."

Several turns and intersections later, the difficult pair parked near the clinic's rear entrance and went inside. Efficient and organized, the staff processed Anakin's admission and had him lying in an shapeless medical gown within half an hour. Obi-Wan lingered for a few minutes before the nurse came to wheel him away.

"Just don't give the doctor half the grief you give me, and everything should go smoothly," he advised.

"I'll be asleep, master. How much trouble can I cause while anesthetized?"

"With you, anything's possible," Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

Nurse Vela arrived at that moment, surgical mask dangling from her neck and hair neatly pinned. Obi-Wan stepped aside to grant her access to Anakin's monitors.

"Looks like everything's in order," she said with her usual disarming smile. "We're ready if you are."

Flexing the five metallic digits of his left hand, Anakin savored the significance of this moment. Soon he'd drift into a black hole of dreamless sleep, waking with no clear memory of how, and look down to find something gloriously different below his elbow. Even knowing it was the result of real, flesh-and-blood doctors performing routine techniques, it still held a magical quality. Perhaps even more magical than the Force itself.

Because unlike the Force, it would succeed in restoring him to wholeness – or at least the closest he'd managed in three years. At last, both palms would be able to touch Padmé with the sensitivity and tenderness she deserved.

And be able to hold his newborn children without fear or reservation. Their soft, unspoiled skin would never feel a cold, inhuman touch.

"I am," he announced solemnly.

Vela smiled at Obi-Wan next, slightly less charming but no less agreeable. "Excuse me then, I'll be taking him down the hall now. We'll inform you as soon as he's out."

"Very well," he nodded. "Good luck Anakin… although you likely won't need it. I'm sure the Force will be with you even in an unconscious stupor."

"Thanks," Anakin smirked.

He watched his mentor slide quietly out the door, apologizing profusely after nearly colliding with a passing nurse. After the brief commotion, Vela unlocked the wheels on his cot and slowly began to roll him away. Diamond-shaped ceiling tiles flew past his eyes as he floated down the corridor silently.

The few nurses who noticed his stoic expression assumed he was in a semi-meditative state to prepare himself. In truth, his thoughts scarcely lingered on the psychological stress of surgery. Instead he found himself preoccupied with the fact that not once had he recalled Palpatine's conspiracy theory while in Obi-Wan's presence that morning.

This was the perplexity that followed him into the operating room, vanishing into the ether along with his mind as the anesthesia lapped over him.

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The temptation to slip out for just an hour or two had grown considerably for Obi-Wan as the afternoon dragged by. Despite the clinic's best efforts to keep its visitors entertained, the lobby's diversions soon grew as stale as the pastries served in the food court. And so he'd fallen asleep, gently snoring with head tilted back and mouth agape, with the half-eaten remains of a glazed sweet roll on his lap. This was the state in which Vela found him, shaking him awake to announce that Anakin was in a recovery room, still quite drowsy but otherwise in fine condition.

_Speaking of drowsy_… he rubbed the sleep out of his own eyes and tried to stretch while walking down the hall. Vela guided him to a large room partitioned by several thin folding screens. Anakin, he was told, lay behind the second-to-last divider.

Obi-Wan held a fist against a yawn as he rounded the corner. There indeed lay Anakin with the central third of his right arm bandaged. What was visible below the bandage, however, was impressive enough to make Obi-Wan stop and stare in amazement.

Had he walked in there without knowing Anakin's history, without ever having seen him before, he'd have no reason to suspect that wasn't his original arm. He took a few steps closer, leaning in cautiously as if breathing on it might harm the flesh somehow. It was astonishing. Never would he have thought it possible.

But it was, and when Anakin awoke, Obi-Wan would be the first to see the incomparable joy on his face. Glancing up at that face, he realized it would be a while before it registered full consciousness.

_Not a problem_, he thought with a sigh. _Better to catch a nap in relative privacy than out in that lobby_. The nearby chair didn't appear terribly comfortable, but it would have to do. Soon both his feet were planted comfortably on a physician's stool and his eyes closed once more.

Not three minutes had passed before something interrupted his repose. A faint, unintelligible sound at first, he opened one eye to see it was Anakin. He was beginning to stir, a string of incoherent syllables spilling from his lips.

He reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Yet as he was about to speak, the words died on his tongue when Anakin spoke clearly himself.

"P- Padmé…? Is that… you?"

Obi-Wan's hand froze. His eyes darted back and forth uncertainly. Had he really just heard that? Could anyone really mistake those words for something else?

"Unh… Padmé…" Anakin stirred again. "I'm all right… everything's… going to be all right."

Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and held his breath, as much to keep from being detected as to eliminate any auditory interference. He'd sort out the implications later. For now, he needed to hear everything with crystal clarity.

"Don't worry Padmé…" came another mumble. "We'll figure out… what to do… about the babies…"

It felt as though fish reels retracted Obi-Wan's eyelids back into his skull. For what could have been a full minute, his lungs ceased functioning. Then by a miracle no less spectacular than Anakin's restored arm, he managed to inhale with a gasp.

The weight of his arms suddenly grew so heavy that his shoulders simply fell, his jaw not far behind. There within the harsh fluorescent glow of a cold, sterile environment with dozens of oblivious nurses rushing past, he'd heard something he never should have. Not because it was a hapless breach of privacy, but because the admission itself proved a breach of something far more sacred.

The sheer magnitude of it all nearly induced him to vomit.

Slumped forward in utter shock, he waited for the numbness to subside, not knowing whether it would before Anakin awoke or not.

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	14. Chapter 13

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**C****hapter 13**

Long shadows began to drape across the city as two figures cruised through the sky lanes. One was stonily silent; the other could barely contain his elation long enough to draw a breath.

"Master, it's incredible!" Anakin exclaimed for the tenth time since being discharged. "I can't believe how _real_ it looks… and feels! My hand even felt the temperature change just now as we passed beneath that tower!"

Obi-Wan conceded a sideways glance, obliged to offer some acknowledgment. "It's quite something."

"It's more than I dared to imagine. I expected an improvement, but to wake up and find _this_…" he shook his head, temporarily lost for words as he stared in wonder. He wanted to catch the exact moment when the illusion faded to reveal his old rods and coils, industrially grotesque as always. Yet the longer he stared, the more lightheaded he grew upon realizing he'd never again see metal resting in his lap.

"You're awfully quiet this afternoon."

Though there was clearly no one else for whom the comment could have been intended, Obi-Wan failed to recognize it at first. His hands reflexively gripped the steering wheel, weaving a few daring moves between vehicles.

"And what was _that_?" Anakin's eyes widened. "Geez, how long was I out? I wake up and suddenly you're trying out pod racing moves? Who are you and what did you do with my master?"

It was then that Anakin noticed the tension in Obi-Wan's jaw, the taut angle of his neck and shoulders as he steered them with fierce, unblinking eyes. How long had he been like this? Enraptured as he'd been with his new arm, Anakin couldn't say. It was more than a little unnerving to think he'd been scowling the entire time.

"Do you want me to shut up? Is that it?"

His jaw tightened further, much to Anakin's surprise.

"You're tired of hearing me go on and on about it, aren't you?"

Still no response. The knuckles only grew whiter.

"Fine, I can take a hint," he tried to cross his arms but stopped, mindful of the bandage. "I'll just keep it to myself."

Anakin tried to keep his disappointment in check, reminding himself of the favor Obi-Wan was providing. Who else would have dropped everything to accompany him that morning? If Obi-Wan wanted some peace and quiet on the drive back, he deserved it.

But if that was really what he wanted, why didn't his steering reflect it?

For all the times he'd mocked Obi-Wan for his yawn-worthy driving, he never expected it to actually bear results. Half the fun was knowing he could rely on the joke for years, even decades to come. In the unlikely event that Obi-Wan ever _did_ change, rubbing it in would have been Anakin's next course.

Yet the urge to do so now failed him. Something felt off, and he was reasonably sure it wasn't the aftereffects of anesthesia. Its residual haze had all but vanished now; his sense of unease should be vanishing too, not mounting.

What was Obi-Wan's problem? His mood had been decent enough at the clinic. A few sardonic lines here and there, but that was far from out of the ordinary. Nothing to indicate he'd be this sullen and fuming seven hours later.

With a mild jolt, he recalled the unpleasant conversation he'd shared with the Chancellor the day before. Perhaps the riddle wasn't so difficult to solve after all. If Palpatine's suspicions were correct, Obi-Wan would undoubtedly have much troubling him. Nearly an entire day had passed while Anakin lay unconscious; who knew what unsavory communications Obi-Wan had taken in that time? And then to find himself stuck with a patient with whom he could confide nothing… whose constant jabbering was just another reminder of the inconvenience.

Yes, that had to be it. Anakin sank into his seat smugly. He understood everything, despite Obi-Wan foolishly presuming otherwise.

Then again, there was something inexplicably personal about the waves of irritation rolling off Obi-Wan's shoulders…

"_I'll be asleep, master. How much trouble can I cause while anesthetized?"_

"Plenty."

Obi-Wan's voice startled him.

"E-excuse me?" Anakin blinked in disbelief.

The older man's nostrils flared. "You heard me. I said plenty."

"What? Why were you…"

"Monitoring your thoughts?" A low, disturbing chuckle rose from his chest as he shook his head. "Believe me Anakin, I wish I didn't have to."

"I don't understand…"

"Oh, but you do. The irony is _I've_ been the one who didn't understand."

"What are you talking about?" Anakin shouted in irritation. "I haven't done anything! For Sith's sake, I was out cold most of the day! What could you possibly have to be angry about?"

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched in a bitter smile. "You'll find out soon enough. And it's nothing you don't already know."

Anakin glared at him in speechless, indignant confusion. Just then, however, something glinted in his peripheral vision, off in the direction they were heading. He directed his gaze forward to see the Jedi temple's spires drawing closer by the second.

"Why are we approaching from this direction? This isn't the quickest way to the medical ward."

"I know," Obi-Wan decelerated as they drew near the northwestern tower. "There's been a change of agenda. You'll go to the ward after a slight detour."

With one blink, Anakin realized what that detour was. "We're stopping by the council chamber first?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together in response, docking the ship at one of the few external access points just below the tower's apex. The silence of the engine was foreboding, causing a sudden panic in Anakin's chest.

"What business do we have here?" he demanded.

Obi-Wan's movements were tightly controlled as he released his safety belt and dismounted onto the platform. Anakin remained seated, determined to know the meaning of this before going anywhere.

"Come on, Anakin. Follow me."

"You haven't answered me yet. What's this about?"

Was it the fading afternoon light, or did Obi-Wan's face seem noticeably pale? "Everything will be explained inside. This isn't the place."

"Like hell it isn't!" Anakin shot back. "I refuse to be blindsided! I'm not setting foot in that building until I know the meaning of this."

"You're really in no position to be making demands," Obi-Wan crossed his arms.

"This is absurd. I haven't _done_ anything! Is it too much to ask to recuperate peacefully after a day in surgery?"

Obi-Wan's frame rumbled now like a volcano on the verge of erupting. And then he did.

"Is it too much to ask that you honor the _code?_" he thrust a fist into the air. "Or, if you find it too burdensome to keep, that you at least _confess?_"

Anakin's tongue was suddenly paralyzed. As were all his other muscles, he soon realized. Even his eyelids refused to blink. Frozen and impassive as a mannequin, he stared at Obi-Wan's furious form, which had never appeared half as threatening as it did on that landing platform.

"Well Anakin? _Is_ it too much to ask? You seem to have high expectations for how you're treated, yet you can't even be bothered to extend the most basic courtesy to others." The Jedi master leaned forward, tightening the distance between his severe face and Anakin's. "I only hope you treat _Padmé_ with more respect than you've shown us. Especially since she's the one carrying the burden of your indiscretion."

The ship Anakin was sitting in could have plummeted to Coruscant's underworld and he'd have scarcely noticed.

"How… how did you know?" his voice was as flat as the face turned toward Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan laughed drily. "Does it really matter? The walls around your secret life have just crumbled, and the first thing you ask is _how_ it happened?" He looked up absently to the passing traffic, shaking his head in abject disappointment. "All that bothers you is how a damn fool like me could have possibly uncovered the truth."

Anakin drew a shaky breath, trying to clear his head. "That's not why I asked. I need to know if Padmé is in danger. If you found out through some public venue –"

"I didn't. If you must know, it was courtesy of your semi-drug-induced mind. You mumbled Padmé's name several times… and then you mentioned the _babies_." Closing his eyes to repress the memory, he struggled to form the next words carefully. "Am I to presume, then, that there is… more than one?"

"Yes," Anakin stared directly ahead. "Twins."

The agony was palpable as Obi-Wan exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh Anakin, what have you done?"

Anakin turned a sardonic smile toward him. "I should think it's fairly obvious. You're the one who taught me all about it when I hit puberty, after all."

"_Don't_," Obi-Wan's glare cut like a knife. "Don't you dare throw jokes around! Of all the indecent times to… is that all this is to you? A _joke?_" His voice joined the screech of passing engines. "You've violated one of the most sacred tenets of the code, placing your future with the Jedi in serious jeopardy, _and_ you're going to be a _father_, for Force's sake! How you can even _think_ of joking now is beyond all comprehension!"

"Is that what _truly_ bothers you, Obi-Wan?" at last he jumped from his seat to tower over his mentor, wind whipping at their robes. "Or is the real reason you're so appalled because you still think of me as a child? The thought of me maintaining a mature relationship just doesn't compute, does it? Sure, you care about the code. But not half as much as you care about keeping me in my _place_," he spat.

Temporarily speechless from the accusation, Obi-Wan felt a slight disturbance in the force, a faint tickle in his subconscious that he couldn't quite place. In any event, he was far too distracted to pay it any heed at the moment.

"You've crossed one line too many," his voice lowered.

"I've only just begun," Anakin replied just as threateningly. Slowly he circled him at a steady pace. "Jealousy. Insecurity. Fear of waking up one day to find the balance of power between master and apprentice irrevocably inverted. These are what trouble you most, _master_," he sneered. "This situation just gives you the opportunity you've longed for: a chance to undercut me and assert your superiority once and for all."

Obi-Wan's anger roiled, but he fought valiantly to keep it in check. "I should have expected such insolence from you. To think there was even the slightest chance you might humbly repent… I don't know what I was thinking."

"No, you don't. Which is why I'll do you the service of exposing your true motives."

"What I wouldn't give to be in a meditation chamber right now…"

"What _I_ wouldn't give to have any other master but _you!_" Anakin snarled. "One who's not threatened by the prospect of his own padawan's children having higher midichlorian counts than he has!"

"Enough!" Obi-Wan shook with anger. "This little tirade may feel vindicating, but it does nothing to help your cause! Each word only seals your fate further!"

"And what fate is that, exactly? How will the council rule?" Anakin stepped closer, undeterred. "Would they expel me at such a critical time in the war? They can't afford to dispose of me so easily."

"I won't presume to speak for them. But we _will_ learn their decision soon enough," Obi-Wan kept his shoulders squared, refusing to back away. "At some point we'll have to go inside and –"

Both of them sensed it at the same instant. Hovering several dozen yards above them on a flimsy-looking speeder, a cloaked figure was holding a microphone in its outstretched hand, pointed directly at the two Jedi below.

By the time they fired their own speeder back to life, the visitor had already vanished into the red-orange Coruscant sky.

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_Sounds like an "Oh Sith!" moment to me! :O_


	15. Chapter 14

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**Chapter 14**

The halls outside the grand senate chamber lay silent until the gentle thunder of carpeted footsteps began to rumble through. Hundreds of voices cluttered the air, each in a tongue and timbre distinct from the rest, yet somehow harmonizing into a single message: triumph.

There was, however, a pocket of silent discontent walking among the shouts and robust exclamations. Three senators walked a little slower than their cohorts, chins tucked inward rather than tilted high in victory. The trio was all but invisible amid the whirling robes and excited buzz.

Invisible to all but one figure who moved to join them once the crowds had thinned.

"Senators, I sensed some reserve on your part to approve my emergency powers," the Chancellor approached them with a look of consternation. "I wanted to personally assure you of my reluctance to accept them, and of my intention to use them judiciously."

Bail, Mon, and Padmé exchanged uncertain glances with each other.

"We appreciate the gesture, sir, but it's been a long day and we'd all like to return home," Bail replied with as much courtesy as he could spare.

"I don't mean to keep you," Palpatine quickly assured. "I only wish to put your minds at ease before we depart for the day. To end things on an amicable note, and ensure we all understand each other."

"I believe we understand each other quite well. We heard your statements during the session, and you heard ours. Nothing remains to be added," Bail stated.

"Very good then," Palpatine nodded, offering one last attempt at a disparaging smile. "Rest well, my colleagues. Good day."

The three of them exhaled in silent relief as they resumed their slow, sullen walk down the hall, but their breath caught again as Palpatine hurried back toward them.

"I'm terribly sorry senator Amidala, but may I have a brief word with you in private?"

"I… I'm really rather tired, Chancellor…"

"My dear, I know; I wouldn't impose if it weren't a matter of importance," his eyes were full of urgent pleading.

Padmé threw an ambivalent look to her friends and sighed. "Go on, I'll be in contact later tonight," she said before being led to a small room a few doors down. It was dark and musty, illuminated by a single wall sconce. Her instincts stood on edge immediately.

"Don't be alarmed," Palpatine shut the door quietly. "This matter I wish to speak of is simply… delicate in nature," he hesitated. "I have been made aware of your absence at the ribbon-cutting ceremony two days ago."

Padmé tensed beneath her concealing robes. "I am truly sorry, Chancellor. It was not by choice, I assure you."

"No, of course it was not," his eyes grew soft as he shook his head. "I know full well it was not."

"The heat was especially intense that day, your Excellency, and I…"

"Padmé," he held up a hand, "say no more. Be at ease. I know the true reason."

Every joint in her body locked into place. "You do…?" she stared in frozen disbelief.

"Yes," he sighed, dropping his shoulders. "It is the same reason you wear such heavy robes in late summer."

Padmé felt the floor beneath her give way, sending her falling straight through to the other side of the planet. How could this be? How could he have possibly discovered her secret? Not even her closest companions had suspected anything until her robes were laid open.

"Let me first say it is not my place to cast judgment. Nor is it my place to determine your future in the senate – that is for the queen to decide," he paused to glance at the tent covering her midsection. "You have hidden it well all these months. Your continued service to the Republic under such circumstances is truly heroic. You are a credit to the galactic senate."

Still speechless, Padmé listened in shock as he met her eyes with overflowing compassion.

"I wish to cause you no further distress, my dear. Your secret is perfectly safe with me."

She swallowed to regain her voice, which sounded more frightened and weak than she preferred. "If I may ask, how did you discover it?"

At this, Palpatine's expression went from sympathetic to uneasy and he wrung his hands with uncharacteristic angst. "My lady, it matters not how I learned of it, but that I am prepared to put you in contact with my own personal physician, one who can be implicitly trusted with sensitive matters –"

"As you said, Chancellor, I've gone to great lengths to keep this hidden," she regained her courage. "The least you can do is tell me how, despite my best efforts, it was discovered."

"Very well," painful reluctance etched his features. "I do owe you as much. But in all honesty, you may find yourself wishing you hadn't asked."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

Palpatine sighed. "Then it is my sad duty to inform you that it was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi who told me."

"_What?_" Padmé gasped, certain she hadn't heard correctly.

"It is indeed shocking," he grimaced. "Which is why I hesitated to tell you. I know how much you trusted him, Padmé. It saddens me that he would betray that trust so blithely."

"I… I don't understand… I don't believe it…" she reached for a nearby chair to lean against. _It_ _couldn't be._ She'd asked him to his face, with Anakin as his witness, to speak of it to no one. He'd bowed with perfect Jedi nobility and pledged his silence. There had been no trace of deceit in those loyal, unwavering blue eyes. And never in a million years could she imagine seeing any, much less experiencing betrayal of this magnitude. It left her winded.

"I was equally scandalized," the Chancellor placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, keeping a professional distance. "It has troubled me deeply ever since. This breach of confidence does not reflect well on the Jedi as a whole, I'm afraid to say."

"Do you know if he's told anyone else?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I can't say. It is possible, I suppose, but I can't imagine what he'd stand to gain by telling others," Palpatine mused. "I presume he told me only because it involves one of my constituents – although that by no means justifies his behavior."

Padmé nodded absently. She prayed his theory was correct; it was the best she could hope for at this point. Yet the thought of Obi-Wan being capable of this… if he could violate his own morals once, what was stopping him from repeating the offense? The only thing certain anymore was that nothing was certain, not even ethical standards once considered unbreakable. If Anakin only knew…

"Padmé, allow me to restate my commitment to your privacy and protection. You have my solemn vow that I will tell no one. Master Kenobi's impropriety ends here."

All she could offer was a meager expression of gratitude.

"And should you need anything, do not hesitate to let me know. I will do everything in my power to keep you and your children safe and healthy, my dear."

Her hands roamed across her stomach in an involuntary self-soothing gesture, her mind and heart heavy under the weight of what had been revealed. Yet had she seen how greedily her companion watched her – the sinister smile that relished each stroke of her belly – her misgivings about Obi-Wan would have vanished in an instant.

In their place would be the coldest dread in the very core of her soul.

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"Sense anything yet?" Obi-Wan shouted, head whipping frantically over both shoulders as he threaded through alleys and shortcuts at top speed.

"You'll be the first to know when I do!" Anakin's scowl was as fierce as his tone. "Just quit talking and be ready. It could be any moment…"

"This is madness. You and your big mouth!"

"_You_ started the tantrum out there, not me!"

"You were louder than a cave full of screeching mynocks!"

"You provoked me!"

Obi-Wan felt like ramming the nose of the speeder into the nearest building. "What was I supposed to do? Share a little café table with you and sip tea over pleasant, civilized conversation?"

"Would it have killed you to try?"

"Oh yes, I can see it now," Obi-Wan guffawed. "_Anakin, I caught the most intriguing bit of news recently: it seems you've been keeping a mistress for Force knows how long, and she's on the verge of giving birth to your illegitimate children! Fancy that!_"

"Wait… mistress? _Illegitimate?_" Anakin sputtered, taken aback.

"You're right, we really should have gone that route," Obi-Wan interjected before he could continue. "And you know, you're right about something else too – your mouth isn't really to blame. It's _another_ part of your anatomy that technically got us into this mess."

"Hold it right there! Padmé's not my mistress!"

Obi-Wan shot irate, incredulous daggers at him. "Unbelievable. So help me Anakin, you will _not_ abandon her! She may have been just a plaything to you, but –"

"She's my _wife!_" Anakin bellowed above the roar of the engine.

Fortunately for both of them, they were several dozen yards from the nearest vehicle when Obi-Wan swerved from shock. For a moment the cityscape shimmered before his eyes, and he swore he was dreaming.

"You're joking," he said with far less certainty than he liked.

"I swear I'm not," Anakin said earnestly. "Trust me master, I'd never dishonor her that way."

"You... you mean to say you've been married for the better part of a year?"

"Longer," Anakin replied. "Over three years."

Obi-Wan feared his eyes would explode from his head. _That long? _ That meant… ever since Geonosis, or shortly thereafter. His head swam with a deluge of memories that suddenly possessed new meaning. All the missions they'd shared, all the narrow escapes and harrowing encounters in the theatre of war – it had all happened against the invisibly complex backdrop of marriage. The many heroic, superhuman feats Anakin had performed in the line of duty just grew even more impressive. And that was significant.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted when the shock began to fade.

Anakin frowned at the passing scenery. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to shut up and stop making assumptions."

"Well, even you have to admit it was a logical conclusion. If you didn't want assumptions to be made about your relationship, you shouldn't have hidden it so well."

"Right. How foolish of –" the rest of Anakin's sardonic comment died as he pointed to the left. "_There!_"

Obi-Wan needed no further instruction. Veering the speeder into the next alley on the left, he slowed as he let the Force come into focus. Somewhere behind the various dumpsters and crates was their target. The trick was proceeding quickly enough to catch him if he fled again, but not so quickly as to trigger that very action.

"Just a little farther…" Anakin whispered, squinting at the shadows. "There's only one way out, and this time we're prepared."

The engine's purr was relatively soft, yet both of them cringed as the sound bounced between the buildings. If their target suspected he'd been followed, another chase was almost guaranteed. And Obi-Wan had tasted enough of Anakin's driving style for one day. For an entire year, actually.

So it was with mutual relief that they came upon a figure hunched over a datapad, too immersed in his notes to realize he'd been found. That, and his drooping hood obscured any peripheral view of the speeder hovering next to him.

Obi-Wan exchanged a smirk with Anakin and then casually propped his elbow. "Excuse me, but we'd like to have a chat if you don't mind."

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	16. Chapter 15

_Hope everyone's staying cool out there!_

_I'll only be posting one chapter at a time from now on, coz I dislike seeing most people skip the first two chapters of each update & go straight for the last one. (Traffic stats told me so.) Hurts my feelings and stuff. I apologize to those who don't skip chapters, but I gotta do what I gotta do. (I'll compensate by updating daily, how's that?) _

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**Chapter 15**

The startled eyes that peered out from beneath the hood were dark – and human. For a moment they darted between the two Jedi and the nonexistent space they'd left for escape.

"Don't even try it," Anakin warned, seeing the man appraise his options.

"We don't want this to turn ugly, friend," Obi-Wan added calmly. "We merely want to talk."

The eyes darted some more, still uneasy and mistrusting. "I don't make a habit of talking to Jedi."

"But you'll eavesdrop on them, right?" Anakin provoked.

"You have your job, I have mine," he straightened on his seat.

"It's your job to lurk around the Jedi temple like some filthy reptile?"

"Anakin –" Obi-Wan cautioned, not wanting things to escalate too soon.

The man smiled derisively. "I wasn't lurking. You two were making quite the scene when I happened to be passing by. It's free airspace, you know." After entering a few codes on his datapad, he tucked it inside his pocket. "Don't blame me if you can't keep your drama indoors."

"We will now that we know leeches like you are out there," Anakin vowed.

The smile still hadn't left their captive's face. "I've been called worse. My paycheck usually heals the emotional scars."

"You're awfully smug for someone who's cornered," the younger Jedi observed.

"And you're awfully bold for someone who really has no recourse. I'm done talking, so –"

Before he could blink, his throat constricted under the crushing force of Anakin's remote grip.

"That's right – you _are_ done talking," came a voice dripping with contempt. "It's time you started listening instead!"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan balked. "What are you doing?"

His plea fell on deaf ears. "You will tell no one of what you heard. Not a soul. Not on this planet or any other in the entire universe, do you understand me?"

Terrified squirming was the only response he received.

The ferocity in Anakin's eyes was unlike any Obi-Wan had witnessed in years of combat. It was as stunning as it was horrifying. And something equally horrifying would happen soon without a swift intervention.

"Stop this, Anakin!" Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's outstretched wrist like a vise. He fought the sharply rising panic and willed himself to focus. And then a desperate inspiration came to him. "What if your children were here now? What if they saw you like this?"

At first he feared Anakin was blocking him entirely, rendered deaf by the rage coursing through his veins. Yet the flames flickered slightly behind his livid gaze. Something wavered inside of him, weak at first but gradually gaining strength like an earthquake. Obi-Wan watched with baited breath as the fingers finally twitched to loosen their deadly hold. His wheeze of relief may not have been as loud as the reporter's, but it was no less genuine.

Anakin's arms hung limply at his sides, his face eerily blank as Obi-Wan commandeered the situation.

"I'm terribly sorry… what my friend meant to say was how grateful we'd be if you were kind enough not to print your observations," he said in diplomatic haste.

The victim's jaw hung open as he massaged his neck gingerly. "Not a chance. That little display just proved the value of this story," he coughed, eyes boring into them. "Not that I ever doubted it. This one's _sure_ to get me promoted to vice editor."

"Surely you have some honor? A little empathy, at the very least?" Obi-Wan grasped.

"Empathy doesn't pay the bills," the other tried to clear his throat. "We both know you can't compete with the _Galactic Register_, not with your Jedi salaries. And aside from that violent outburst a minute ago, you can't threaten me. You wouldn't harm a hair on my head. It's not in your sacred _code_." He croaked out a laugh. "But then again, neither is procreation, is it?"

Obi-Wan's stomach twisted, feeling his leverage rapidly slipping away. "Do you realize the ramifications of publishing this? What this will do to his image, his career?" he glanced uncertainly at Anakin, who was still apparently numb with internal conflict. "Not to mention senator Amidala's?"

The man's trachea had recovered enough to emit a dry chuckle. Heartless and callous through and through, he brought his ignition sputtering to life with the most spiteful smile.

"I _have_ been rather rude and inconsiderate, haven't I?" he steered the bike upward, looking down with mock dismay. "Where are my manners? Congratulations, _daddy_," his words echoed down the alley as he cruised away, leaving a noxious black cloud in their faces. "I'll send you a copy free of charge! A memento to show the kids when they're older!"

Their ears rang from the taunt long after he disappeared. Frozen in mute shock, neither knew what to do or say; even the idea of facing each other seemed daunting.

"What do we do now?" Anakin finally asked, staring at his hands.

Obi-Wan was still focusing on the last spot the scoundrel had been seen. He blinked a few times, letting the reality sink in that what had just happened actually did happen. "I don't know," he sighed in defeat. "It seems there's nothing we _can_ do."

"We could have tried harder, used a mind trick on him…"

"You know as well as I it wouldn't have worked. He's as stubborn as they come. He didn't even back down after you..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"After I used aggressive negotiations?" Anakin volunteered, wincing at the memory. "I… I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," he murmured.

Plenty of admonishments ran through Obi-Wan's mind but he prudently decided now was not the time. "For what it's worth, his mind was already set before that. It won't do any good dwelling on it now. What's done is done."

"Yes, but it's only just begun!" Anakin raked a hand across one cheek. "Tomorrow… it'll be everywhere by midday! And Padmé… oh…" he moaned thinking of the infamy they'd both wake up to. His breathing grew shallow as anxiety set in.

"Anakin, try to stay calm. We'll think of something," Obi-Wan bit his lip. _How ironic, I went from chewing him out to holding his hand in less than ten minutes_, he thought ruefully. _I always said he'd be the death of me. The mental whiplash alone must be taking years off my life_.

"No, you said it yourself, there's nothing we can do," Anakin's voice cracked. "It's over. I'm ruined, and I've taken Padmé down with me. I can't imagine facing her now, telling her what's coming…" he buried his face in his hands, overcome with self-loathing.

"I can be there when you tell her, if you wish. But one thing at a time, Anakin," Obi-Wan advised, feeling his thoughts congeal at last. The speeder lurched forward on its way out of the shadowed alley. "First things first – we need to tell the Jedi council before the _Galactic Register_ does."

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A statue stood in the center of the Jedi council room. Fading sunlight cast gaunt shadows across its features, capturing their stillness in unearthly detail. The eyes, flat as glass and equally unseeing, were as stony and unfocused as any mannequin's. To those who encircled it within the chamber, its single form overpowered the space.

The circle of seats was only half filled. Not all could be present for this curious assembly. And curious it was indeed – curious and scandalous, to be sure. Shocking to the extent that even Yoda was struck speechless along with the others.

There was another figure next to the statue, shorter and nearly invisible beside the glowering tower. Anxiety dripped from its wringing hands and its features were drawn tightly with gut-churning anticipation. Yet its counterpart remained cast in stone.

Appearances were ironically misleading. One would have guessed the shorter, bearded man to be bracing for the council's verdict on his fate. Yet it was not his conduct that had thrown the wisest masters in the galaxy completely off balance, but that of the younger specimen who looked implacable enough to stand in that spot the rest of his life.

_Maybe that will be their ruling_, Anakin thought with no outward sign of amusement. _Sentence me to be a living statue for their enjoyment. I suppose this room _could_ use some decoration_.

He'd stopped noticing Obi-Wan's fidgeting presence several minutes ago, not long after he'd stopped tripping over his words in a sloppy effort to soften the blow. Anakin didn't even hear half the rambling. He was too busy scanning the room, gauging the collective reaction with a fine antenna.

There were the usual suspects. Disgust. Indignation. Appalled incredulity. Nothing he hadn't fully expected. Indeed, had he taken the room's pulse and _not_ found these, he'd wonder if the Jedi masters had all been abducted and replaced with shape-shifters.

All was as it should be, then. Horror-struck and aghast, demoralized to the very core – this was how his confession had left them. Twiddling his thumbs wouldn't change that. Fiddling the sleeves of his robe would do no good either. Obi-Wan could waste his energy if he chose, but Anakin saw no purpose, nothing to gain by flexing and shifting. It would no more help the council swallow this news than persuade them to rule generously in its wake.

And so he stood. With Yoda's heavily lidded eyes boring through him. With Obi-Wan's restless nerves spinning beside him. With Padmé somewhere in the distance, wholly oblivious to the perilous scene. With the entire galaxy poised to imbibe his downfall in a way it could have never foreseen.

With everything he'd painstakingly built over the years disintegrating faster than his eyes could see.

And with each passing second bringing him one breath closer to learning his true fate.

Not the mystical fate he'd been promised since boyhood. All of that had been summarily flung out the window. In a way it provided bitter relief for himself as much as those who'd remained skeptical all along. They somehow knew it would come to this or something else equally catastrophic to the prophecy. And his own skepticism, vague and faint all this time, was at last sealed as well. It almost felt like vomiting after thirteen years of persistent nausea.

It felt strangely healthy, this catharsis of all he'd struggled with for years. All the times he'd gnashed his teeth at Obi-Wan's direction or bridled against the reins around at his neck… it was all so obvious. He never belonged. Despite his lifelong, earnest desire to become a Jedi, he simply didn't belong. And that, even more than the failed Chosen One prophecy, was the cruelest trick that fate could have chosen to play.

All else seemed insignificant at this point. Let Yoda take five minutes or five months to respond. The worst damage had already been done. No air remained to punch from his system. Any further punishment would amount to stealing the shoes off a dead man.

That man watched as the tips of Yoda's ears lifted slightly, signaling the long-awaited announcement was at hand. Anakin's breath caught despite himself.

The oldest and sagest of Jedi spoke in a calm, quiet voice that neither wavered nor shook with anger. "Leave us for now, Skywalker. Discuss your fate with Obi-Wan, we shall."

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	17. Chapter 16

_For those incredulous that anyone would skip chapters, here's what happens: I upload 3 chapters at once. Most recent instance: traffic stats say #1 has 161 views, #2 has 171, and #3 has 263 (?) Not cool. I don't write filler or fluff that can just be jumped over like a game of hopscotch. Whole lotta time, thought, and creativity go into each chapter, and I want every line read. (That's my rant, I'm done now.) _

_Without further ado, here's today's update. And expect plenty more cliffhangers in the future - that's how I roll. ;)_

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**Chapter 16**

Mace Windu strode toward the council chamber, frowning down at the comlink that had rung halfway through his last youngling training session. An emergency meeting… that couldn't be good. Whatever the reason, it was bound to be unpleasant, or at the very least nothing preferable to retiring to a quiet meditation room. He grumbled to himself, silently cursing whoever was responsible for this little surprise.

He was within a dozen yards of the chamber doors when he saw a silhouette approaching, tall and plodding slowly toward him. Seconds later he recognized it as Anakin. Yet even from a distance, his dark mood was palpable. When he failed to acknowledge Windu in passing, it wasn't clear whether common insolence was to blame or genuine distraction. It almost seemed he wasn't even aware of the other's presence in the passage.

_At least he's leaving, walking away from the meeting_, Mace thought with mitigated relief. The meeting might not be half as bad as he thought. Still, there was an unshakable disturbance in the Force that kept gnawing at the edge of his consciousness…

His instincts clicked into place at the sight of a dozen fraught expressions inside. Obi-Wan in particular looked to have the weight of the entire universe on his shoulders.

"Master Windu, glad we are you could join us," Yoda spoke. Deep sobriety was evident even in such a brief statement. "Please sit down. Not too late are you to join."

Nodding uncertainly, he assumed his usual chair with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "That's good to hear, I suppose. What exactly am I joining?"

Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged uneasy glances before the latter decided to break the tension.

"I'm his master," he sighed to himself, accepting partial culpability and the burden of sharing the news. "There's no easy way to say this, Mace, so I'll just bite the bullet and lay it out there: Anakin has violated the code. Quite blatantly and severely," his mouth twisted as though the words tasted foul. "He's had a wife for the past three years."

Windu's eyes widened as much as his jaw dropped. "A _wife?_ How did he keep it hidden for so long?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "What you're really asking is how _I_ didn't know. Believe me, I'm acutely aware that I should have known, recognized the signs long ago. I… have no excuse or explanation for my oversight," he shook his head bitterly.

"Well, if it's any consolation, he pulled the wool over all our eyes," Mace leaned back with a distant look. "All this time… amazing. In a bad way, of course."

Yoda pressed his thin lips together. "Forgotten to mention something else, Obi-Wan has," he threw a reproving look at the bearded Jedi.

Obi-Wan's discomfort was blaringly obvious. Uncrossing an ankle from his knee, he shifted while straightening his belt and tunic repeatedly. "Ahem, thank you master Yoda, there is one other detail I was getting to. You see… well, as a married couple, certain things have a tendency of happening… and Anakin and Padmé are no exception…"

"Did you say Padmé?" Mace raised a hand, eyes wide again. "As in Padmé _Amidala?_"

"Er, yes… another relevant bit of information," Obi-Wan grimaced. "As I was saying, most married couples eventually find themselves in the position of being expectant parents… and that, I must inform you, is precisely their current position," he gulped, awaiting Windu's reaction with bated breath. It had been painful enough telling Yoda and the other council members, but when it came to Anakin's least ally, his shame flared to new levels.

Windu's temples were now being compressed between his fingers. "You're telling me that Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala are married, have been for three years, and are expecting a child?" his voice nearly cracked with incredulity.

"I'm afraid so. But more accurately, not a child – _children_. Senator Amidala is expecting twins."

Mace dropped his hands onto his lap and stared blankly across the rotunda. "This just keeps getting better, doesn't it? Not just married, but married for three years. Not just any wife, but a prominent political figure… and not just pregnant, but pregnant with _twins!_" he could barely contain his exasperation. "Never has a breach of code been so complicated. How on earth do you propose to handle this?"

"In the midst of discerning that, we are," Yoda stated. "Little progress had we made before you walked in. Your input on the matter is most welcome."

Mace grunted. "You may not want to hear my recommendation."

"Patience, master Windu," Yoda encouraged. "Consider all ramifications before passing judgment. The fate of a Jedi, as well as three other lives, is in our hands. Rash and hasty we must not be."

Crossing his arms, Windu set his mouth in a grim line. "I'll listen, but I can't guarantee to keep an open mind."

"As you wish," Yoda nodded. "Obi-Wan, more to say I sense from you."

"Yes… before we go any further, you should know the reason why Anakin and I rushed here this afternoon."

"Hmm, indeed. Wondered did I why it could not wait until tomorrow."

"There were two reasons, really. One was that I couldn't let his deception continue for another day – three years was long enough. After discovering his secret at the clinic, I drove him straight here, but we got into a confrontation on the landing platform and… we accidentally drew the attention of a reporter," he finished with a second wave of guilt.

The news prompted Yoda's ears to droop and Windu to glower even more.

"Please say he didn't overhear what I think he did," Mace lowered his voice.

"I'd be lying if I said he didn't," Obi-Wan admitted.

Yoda seemed unwilling to accept such dire news on top of everything else. "Certain you are? No possibility of misunderstanding, is there?"

"No," Obi-Wan shook his head with a cold smile. "No doubt whatsoever. We tracked him down in an alley, tried reasoning with him, but he wouldn't have it," he almost laughed at the outrageous memory. "His last words were to promise Anakin a free copy of the _Galactic Register_."

At this point, Windu was too furious for words. Yoda's deflated spirit sent ripples through the Force.

"Grave this is, far graver than I could have imagined," Yoda exhaled with eyes closed. "Tragic as well."

"Intolerable is more like it!" Windu shouted. "He couldn't possibly stir up any more trouble! And for this happen at this point in the war? The timing is disastrous!"

"None of us need reminding of that," Obi-Wan sighed. "The challenge lies in weighing Anakin's punishment against the impact it will have on the galaxy as a whole. We need to decide which is more important: upholding our principles or leaving our ranks intact when we need it most."

Yoda rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Oversimplified, you present the situation. Several other factors have we to consider."

"Like how to respond to the tabloids," Mace crossed his arms. "We'll be expected to issue a statement. What sort of politically correct nonsense will we come up with?"

"Hmm, correct you are. Address these rumors we must, or dubious the Order will appear."

"Except these aren't just rumors," Obi-Wan pointed out. "They're not the baseless, sensational drivel usually found in tabloids. It's actually the truth, which makes responding a rather prickly task."

Everyone mulled over this point for a few minutes. The mental juggling act was almost overwhelming: decide what should be said and by whom, all while keeping the precarious situation of the war in context. It would be laughable if it weren't so dreadfully daunting. Here they were, renowned peacekeepers of the galaxy, facing the ultimate test of their mediation skills. Such a challenge was perhaps inevitable in the course of war, but never had they expected it to originate from within their own halls.

These were the tumultuous thoughts weighing on Obi-Wan's mind when he noticed Yoda observing him thoughtfully.

"Perhaps the solution is two in one," Yoda remarked. "Respond to the tabloids and penalize Skywalker, we may do in a single step."

"How so?" Mace turned with renewed interest.

"Have him answer the media personally, we shall. A press conference shall we hold."

Mace and Obi-Wan looked at each other with equal astonishment. Yet Yoda's suggestion grew less shocking as they let it sink in. Who better to address the issue than he who was responsible for it? Not only from a public relations standpoint, but in terms of internal justice and punishment as well. What better way to kill two birds with one stone?

"Very appropriate and effective, master Yoda," Obi-Wan concurred.

"Only if he says the right things," Mace warned. "Is he to compose his own speech?"

"No, we shall write it for him. No latitude will he be given when at stake the Order's integrity is."

"Wait," Obi-Wan held up a hand. "Aren't we forgetting senator Amidala? This impacts her as well."

Windu's eyes narrowed without sympathy. "She's not just some helpless victim in all this. She chose to defy the code along with Skywalker. The consequences are hers as much as his."

"Your point is well made, master Windu, but doesn't the code emphasize compassion? Or at the very least, basic empathy?" Obi-Wan pressed. "All I'm saying is that while this press conference solves our immediate problems, it could cause more to erupt."

Yoda understood his meaning quickly. "Targets they could become. Undue attention it could bring upon them for many years."

"Not to mention their children," Obi-Wan added. "So unless we're heartless enough to sentence them all to a life of infamy, we need to prepare for damage control."

Mace glared. "Truth be told, if I had my way that's exactly how their punishment would play out."

"Look, I'm not any happier about this than you are," Obi-Wan countered with a hint of irritation. "But like it or not, we have to aim for a balance between justice and compassion."

"Fine. But I have one more question."

"Which is?"

"The press conference won't comprise his _entire_ punishment, will it?"

Yoda pursed his lips while Obi-Wan slanted his own uncertainly. Both knew the answer would be neither easily nor amiably made.

"Uncertain that is. Too complex is everything to say at this point," Yoda hedged wisely. "Not denying am I that further sanctions may be prudent, but it is too early to declare more. Wait we shall until this first step is completed, then reassess."

While Yoda's answer satisfied Mace to a certain degree, Obi-Wan was still agitated. "What of damage control? Surely you can predict the aftermath of this press conference," he beseeched them. Then, as suddenly as a lightsaber flaring to life, an idea occurred to him. "What if they were to… disappear for a while afterward?"

"Disappear?" Windu said dubiously.

"We could send them away, far from Coruscant's snooping glare," Obi-Wan continued with enthusiasm.

"For how long?"

"That would depend. Perhaps a month, maybe longer if the twins arrive. We'll just have to gauge the media's interest as time goes by."

Yoda nodded, seeing wisdom in the idea. "What planet did you have in mind?"

"Well, that would be up to them, I suppose. I imagine they'd choose something familiar – Tatooine or Naboo, perhaps."

"Hmm, Tatooine more remote would be, but not ideal for senator Amidala's health," Yoda mused.

"No, definitely not ideal," Obi-Wan frowned. "Naboo may not be the best choice in terms of secrecy, but psychologically speaking, it's the clear winner."

"We could send a small contingent of troops to defend them," Mace surprised everyone with his helpful suggestion.

"Providing the Chancellor is willing to spare them," Yoda sounded less than optimistic.

Leaning back slightly, Obi-Wan was at last starting to feel somewhat at ease. "I have a good feeling he will be. He's always been fond of the two of them. I think he'll respond generously to the situation."

"We shall see," Yoda conceded. "Still, search we should for somewhere well hidden."

"Of course. I'm sure senator Amidala knows of several locations."

Having navigated most of the logistics, the three Jedi masters regarded each other in uneasy silence. The rest of the room, meanwhile, had grown content to let the trio debate everything exclusively. They were, after all, those most opinionated on the matter.

"One last question," Mace said after a minute passed.

"I bet I can guess it," Obi-Wan quipped.

"Then you must be no less interested in the answer. Master Yoda, what will Skywalker's official status be while he's in exile?"

The heaviness in Yoda's eyes revealed his reluctance. "Suspended, he shall be. On probation so to speak. Too valuable and powerful is he to expel without further deliberation."

"Then his investigation is also suspended?" Obi-Wan inferred.

"Indeed. Compromised it has become. We cannot fully trust him or anyone else he may encounter."

"I see," Obi-Wan accepted.

"All unfortunate, but necessary precautions are these. Imprudent it would be to proceed otherwise."

"I agree completely," Mace squared his shoulders.

Nodding halfheartedly, Obi-Wan released a tired sigh. "Then I guess the only thing that remains is to draft Anakin's speech."

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	18. Chapter 17

_Aha, the traffic stats mystery has been solved! That'll teach me to upload three at once. I can see it now: "Ooh, another update! ...wait, what? Is this writer on drugs? This new chapter doesn't make any sense... how did we jump to this?" Hilarious. _

_Lol at Mermaid Cat Jedi Knight! Yeah, Mace leans toward douchebaggery more often than not. But I have no intentions of killing him off. Sorry. ;)_

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**Chapter 17**

Nerves were frayed and tempers sparked easier than flint by the time three figures left Yoda's private meeting chamber. They departed according to height. The short green one led, head drooped with physical and mental fatigue; the bearded one of average stature followed, and several steps behind him was the man of the hour.

Pinched between his new thumb and forefinger was a datapad laden with endless hours of editing and revisions. That slim piece of technology, no different than the billions of others issued throughout the galaxy, felt heavier than any he'd carried before.

He estimated it would weigh ten times as much when he showed it to Padmé.

At 0200 hours, it would have been cruel to contact her, and pointless besides. Waking her wouldn't make 1000 hours come any later.

Eight hours. That was all the buffer that existed between serenity and chaos. Between dignity and disgrace. And though he would spend much of it writhing on a cot in the temple's dormitory wing, he'd be damned if Padmé lost one minute of sleep that night. Considering what awaited them, she deserved one last night in blissful, undisturbed oblivion.

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Blissful and undisturbed her night was not, however. Padmé lost count of all the times she woke from a shallow sleep, tossing fitfully with eyes roaming the dark room. By the time dawn first gleamed behind the curtains, she'd spent more hours awake than asleep. Even the twins copied her restless movements.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd endured such phantom anxiety. Even during the many months Anakin was away, never had her heart pounded like this. Paranoia seized her from within, enigmatic yet as potent as if its source were standing two feet away from her.

At one point, delirious and half conscious, she swore it _was_ standing that close – in the form of chancellor Palpatine grinning excessively at her belly. His leering face dissolved and in its place appeared Queen Apailana of Naboo. Instead of hungry, obsessive eyes, she gazed upon the senator with renunciation. The royal paint around her lips puckered with disapproval. Though she vanished just as quickly as Palpatine had, the encounter was enough to bring tears to Padmé's eyes.

_Oh Anakin… I don't know why I hoped things would be easier once you returned. I should have known better…_

Miserable and weary, she rose before Dormé. The rest of the apartment didn't feel like a mad cell as the bedroom did. Coming to the balcony casement, she sighed at the Jedi temple's hazy outline. _I hope he slept better than I did. He'll need a good night's rest when I tell him what the chancellor knows… and _how_ he knows_.

Her stomach growled as it always did within minutes of rising. Glancing at a nearby clock, she saw Dormé wouldn't be up for another twenty minutes. No bother, she was perfectly capable of procuring food on her own. Being waited on hand and foot the past seven months hadn't spoiled her self-sufficiency, at least not entirely. She insisted this to herself as she shuffled toward the kitchen.

Halfway across the lounge, however, she stopped. The gloom and sleep deprivation might have been causing her to see things, but she could have sworn something slid in under the door a second ago. Forcing the memory of her near-assassination from her mind, she took a few cautious steps toward the spot.

Lying just inside the doorjamb was a plain rectangular envelope, unmarked except for the name "Anakin Skywalker" scribbled on top.

A hand-delivered, hand-addressed package for Anakin, whom no one knew resided there. Or whom no one _should_ have known did.

She stared, disbelieving her tired eyes. Surely this was just another mirage brought on by piteously little sleep. Yet the longer she stared, the louder those letters screamed at her. _Anakin Skywalker_.

Her fingers were numb as she slowly bent down to lift the parcel. They remained numb as she unsealed the flap and encountered the glossy pages inside.

The envelope fell to the floor. Padmé would have too if not for the doorframe being within inches of her reach.

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One needn't have known Anakin for thirteen years to read his current mood. One needn't have known him for any length of time, really. His trepidation was visible a mile away.

Anyone may have seen it, but not just anyone could coax him into opening the door to Padmé's apartment.

"I'll wait right here until you want me to enter," he repeated for the hundredth time. "Now hurry up before someone sees you."

Anakin snorted, looking paler by the second. "So what if they do? It's all the same at this point."

"Being bleak doesn't help. Now go inside," Obi-Wan insisted before adding unevenly, "Your wife is waiting for you."

Closing his eyes, Anakin could see Padmé with perfect clarity – overjoyed to have him back so soon after the surgery, eyes bright with wonder at his new arm, her spirits lighter than a feather.

And then he saw her change as the dreaded words spilled from his mouth, destroying far more than that precious moment.

"I… I've changed my mind, I want you to come in now," Anakin exhaled.

"Oh. Very well," Obi-Wan blinked.

Anakin's access card slid through the panel as he held his breath.

He wasn't sure whether to release it or not when he saw Padmé and Dormé huddled on the sofa, peering with unfettered horror at something on Padmé's lap. Their heads jerked up in unison at the sound of the door sliding open; the matching doleful looks on their faces made Anakin and Obi-Wan halt in their tracks.

"Padmé…?" Anakin asked in alarm, taking a few steps forward.

"Anakin!" Padmé's mouth fell open. Dormé instantly assisted her in standing, an act Anakin would have gladly done had he not been momentarily paralyzed.

She took two steps before noticing Obi-Wan hovering in the background. "Obi-Wan…" she whispered, instinctively placing both hands on her belly in a vain effort to hide it. But his eyes had already found the sphere, and he didn't appear to be looking away anytime soon.

Anakin ran a nervous hand through his hair. "It's all right Padmé, he already knows," he sighed. "Yesterday was a lot more eventful than any of us expected. That's what I have to try to explain."

Padmé glanced between the two Jedi, then pointed a vicious finger at what hung in Dormé's hand. "Would it have anything to do with _this?_" she practically screeched.

He looked to the object in question. Several dozen pages bound together… commercial print and coloring…

"No…" he snatched it from the handmaiden, eyes as horrified as hers. "No… not like this… oh Padmé…"

The _Galactic Register's_ front page was split between two grotesquely enlarged photos. The left side featured an unflattering shot of Anakin snarling at Obi-Wan on the landing platform, hair flailing wildly about his face. He looked half mad. Filling the rest of the page was an image of senator Amidala, taken from the side to capture the girth of her generous gown. Whoever the photographer had been, they obviously knew how to exploit all the right angles; she looked unmistakably pregnant in the shot.

Yet the worst was not the images themselves, but the captions splayed across them.

"Master and apprentice: showdown over forbidden love – Chosen One chooses passion over duty!"

"Carrying two future Jedi – the Force is clearly with Senator Padmé Amidala, a.k.a. Mrs. Anakin Skywalker!"

The font was as bold and garish as it should be, blaring from the page in chunky red and black letters. It was a visual train wreck. If utter, tacky humiliation was what they were aiming for, they should receive a galactic journalism award.

As far as the reporter was concerned, though, he'd already received ample reward. The note he stuck to the corner said as much: "To Anakin, the best thing to happen to my career since the invention of long-range voice recorders. Here's looking at you – for many, _many_ years to come!"

"Oh my…" Obi-Wan bit his lip. "Well, he did follow through on his promise."

"_Who_ did?" Padmé cried. "What _happened_, Anakin? You go off to surgery and _this_ happens less than twenty-four hours later!"

It was all imploding just as he'd feared. Worse, actually. For her to discover it this way, alone in the early morning twilight, rather than from his own mouth… he flung the magazine to the floor bitterly.

"Padmé, come sit down," he ordered.

"I'm in no mood to sit down. I've sat long enough staring at that thing!" she pointed to it again, crumpled at Anakin's feet. "I want some answers, and I'll get them standing up, thank you!"

"All right, just calm down," Anakin reached for her shoulders. The gesture unwittingly worked – her eyes softened the moment his new arm made contact with her flesh.

"It… it's amazing," she blinked, mesmerized by the warm, light pink skin.

"You'll have plenty of time to ogle it later, sweetheart. Let me explain everything now."

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By the time Anakin had spoken three sentences, Padmé had resigned herself to sit again. Her adrenaline receded quickly, leaving her light-headed and dizzy as the two Jedi recounted the previous day's events in stark detail. She was paler than a ghost when they finished.

"So the conference is at 1000 hours? _Today?_" she reaffirmed.

"Yes. We have no time to waste," Obi-Wan replied. "The longer this goes unaddressed, the more harm it might do."

"I understand, but…" she looked at Anakin with quivering eyes, "Will he be doing it… alone?"

Anakin opened his mouth, yet the answer somehow failed him. The question gave him pause. Turning to Obi-Wan for input, he found the Jedi master looking just as undecided.

"Senator, if you're asking to stand beside him, the choice is yours," Obi-Wan declared. "You're neither prohibited nor under any obligation."

Nodding, Padmé's posture grew more erect. "I want to be there. I can't let you bear this burden on your own," she announced, meeting Anakin's tormented eyes.

"But I can't let you share it either!"

"I'm not afraid, Anakin. There's no sense trying to shield me. I've always known this was in the realm of possibilities. It's part of the risk I accepted when I married you," she brushed his cheek. "And I'd gladly accept it again. I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

"You don't have to do this," Anakin looked down. "You don't need to prove yourself to me."

"No, but I _want_ to. And that's final."

Padmé seldom made definitive statements; leaving negotiations open and malleable was her style. When she defied her own standards, the matter was patently closed to debate. Anakin had no choice but to recognize this now.

Obi-Wan offered no resistance either. Had he been inclined to, the sight of them engaged in open affection would have kept him in stunned silence. He'd taken it all in – the subtle intimacy in their eyes, the familiarity with which they spoke that completely belied their stiff, professional public acting.

And what fine acting it had been, he mused silently. So fine that not even he, Anakin's surrogate father for all intents & purposes, had been privy. He didn't know whether to smack his own head for being so utterly clueless, or to take solace in the fact that the rest of the Council had been no less so. Although that didn't exactly ease his mind, either. Fewer reminders of their collective blindness were preferred, not more.

Obi-Wan pulled away from his clouded thoughts. "It's settled then. You'll both arrive at the pavilion in three hours," he concluded, standing with an effort of carrying a 50-pound weight across his shoulders.

"And where will you be?" Anakin asked with sudden concern.

"Nearby," he said elusively. "I'll be there to escort you and the senator to your transport afterward."

"Then it's off to Naboo," Anakin's eyes and voice were equally flat. Thin curtains stretched across a sea of emotions too explosive to release in Padmé's presence. Not here, not now, anyway. Not when she'd already suffered enough distress that morning.

"Yes, for the foreseeable future," Obi-Wan sighed. "As we discussed, it's for your own good."

Disdain leaked from behind the curtains.

"It's not a punishment, Anakin. The press conference is, but exiling you to Naboo was never part of the Council's disciplinary plan. Just because it's happening in sequence doesn't mean it's of the same nature."

"Obi-Wan's right," Padmé spoke up. "Even I can see that, and I've only just been thrown into this mess."

"Thank you, senator," Obi-Wan nodded, mild exasperation rolling off his back. "There's really no time for further arguing. I need to alert the media, arrange your transport, and clear the pavilion area within the next two hours. And the two of you need to pack," he said pointedly as he stepped toward the door.

Anakin offered no parting acknowledgment. His flat expression was chiseled in stone.

"We'll be ready, Obi-Wan," Padmé pledged.

Nodding once more, Obi-Wan gave a perfunctory bow, his jaw setting to flint as he turned to perform his duties and brace for the outcome. His silhouette was as impressive as it was tragic; it touched Padmé, whose heart ached too much to let him leave without saying something more.

"Obi-Wan…" her voice sounded small, far humbler than it usually did.

His hand hovered an inch away from the door control switch. "Yes?" he turned his head a fraction.

"Thank you for helping us," she said with marginal confidence. "Not only in what you're about to do, but for being so compassionate and understanding with… our relationship," she blinked.

She could just make out the corner of a wan, weary smile on Obi-Wan's face. "You're welcome, senator, of course. But don't take the brevity of this morning's meeting to mean we won't be discussing your relationship once this has all blown over. Compassion and understanding may currently be paramount, but there may come a time when they no longer are."

His words of warning hung by the door long after he passed through it, leaving the married pair in stunned silence until Dormé reentered the room with their luggage.

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	19. Chapter 18

_Ah, Friday... here at last. I may not update both days this weekend, due to household chores. My front hedges are overrun by monster vines that flourished despite the heat wave. Also have to supervise/assist the husband with installing new towel bars. The grand, exotic adventures of home ownership._

_And Padme was too shocked/distracted to call Obi-Wan out yet. She was more preoccupied with the threat the Galactic Register posed. But don't worry, the issue with Obi-Wan will return when appropriate... _

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**Chapter 18**

By 1000 hours, it was painfully clear that Coruscant's heat wave wasn't budging. Sith hell itself had descended upon the capital planet, and anyone with two bits of sense was preparing for another day of indoor quarantine.

All except for a teeming wave of bodies crowding the Jedi temple gardens. Its members pressed against each other despite the suffocating heat, their damp brows and backsides sticking like pastry dough. Yet not a single one could be heard complaining.

Any casual onlooker would have thought them completely mad.

Closer observation gave some clue into the riot's madness, however. Each individual held at least one piece of recording equipment in their slippery palms. Many towered high above the crowd on telescoping poles, bobbing like an array of metallic antennae. Those holding the devices stared intently forward, scarcely aware of the hundreds of other sweat-soaked reporters bearing in from every side.

They'd stand there all day if they had to. Any amount of discomfort was worth the wait.

Indeed, they'd have braved far worse to witness this event. It wasn't every day that Anakin Skywalker made a formal, public appearance to address wild rumors regarding his personal life. Rumors that the majority of them had been chastised for not discovering themselves – a journalistic failure none wanted to repeat. And so it was with fierce, semi-psychotic focus that they watched the garden podium for the first sign of the Jedi.

Two figures near the front of the crowd shielded their eyes, squinting at the still-empty pavilion. One attempted to gain better vantage by standing on the tips of his toes, but all he gained was an awkward loss of balance that sent him staggering into the one behind him.

"Watch it!" the darker of the two snapped, snarling at the unwelcome intrusion of space.

"Sorry, sorry," the other tried to regain his dignity while averting a confrontation. "Take it easy, we're all miserable here."

The stranger wearing sun shades beneath his hood smiled smugly. "Speak for yourself. Some of us are less miserable than others."

"You look as human as I do," the first one scoffed.

"In the grand scheme of this sweat party, that's about the only thing you and I have in common."

"Oh really? You're that much better than me, huh? I'm standing one step closer to the action than you are!"

"True," the smug one crossed his arms. "An advantage for someone who needs this story to keep his career afloat."

"And you _don't?_"

"Not half as much as you do," was the cryptic – but no less smug – reply.

"Right. As if any of us would be out here if we didn't have to be."

"Let's just say none of you would be here at all if it weren't for me."

"_What?_" the other scowled at the impertinence. Then, as realization slowly worked its way through his heat-soaked brain, his eyes widened in awe. "You… you're Brun Iser, with the _Galactic Register_?"

Brun smiled as graciously as he was capable. "The one and only."

"H-how did you get that story?" his companion hissed, leaning in for confidentiality. "No one saw it coming! Nobody even _guessed_ as much! Did you have someone on the inside?"

Brun's smile was actually genuine this time as he flashed his teeth. "Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid. Just happened to be in the right place at the _very_ right time."

"_Luck?_ That's all?" The other shook his head in open admiration. "Well, even if you could get me to believe that, I'd still kill to be you. Your manager must be higher than a kite right now!"

Before the hero worship could continue, both men spotted a tall, hooded shadow stirring behind the podium.

The result was equal parts hysteria and mute anticipation. Some were far too excited to patiently await Skywalker's opening remarks. Others bore in mind the conditions of the press conference, as given in no uncertain terms by Obi-Wan Kenobi: there were to be no questions from the audience (none answered, anyway), and Anakin would depart immediately after speaking.

It was precisely because of these rigid terms that so many couldn't contain themselves. If Skywalker's own mentor ordered these restrictions, his reasons couldn't be arbitrary. Closing the event to questions meant those were exactly what would be provoked – probably in mass quantities.

Most had arrived with a healthy amount of questions to begin with. But the collective intrigue skipped a beat when another figure, shorter and more demure than the Jedi, appeared alongside him.

It could be none other than she who shared the inglorious tabloid cover that sparked this event. It was indeed Padmé Amidala, cloaked head bowed instead of proudly raised as at every other conference throughout her career. The irony was tragic and the drama extraordinary.

Even the cool Brun Iser in the second row registered mild shock upon seeing her.

This was supposed to be _Anakin Skywalker's_ conference. There'd been no mention of the senator. No one had anticipated this. Nor could anyone anticipate what, if anything, she'd dare to say. The plot had thickened more than the suffocating air they breathed.

The same air that Anakin drew into his nostrils once more before speaking.

"Good morning," his voice boomed into the microphone, jolting everyone. Several reporters rushed to calibrate their recorders' volume.

Anakin paused, returning to the script on his datapad. "By now, all of you are surely acquainted with today's _Galactic Register_ issue. You must also be wondering whether or not the allegations it contains are to be believed, or whether they've simply been fabricated for entertainment's sake."

Pausing again, Anakin hoped none of the cameras could zoom in close enough to capture the faint trembling of his hood.

"Rather than allow unchecked speculation to continue, the Jedi High Council wishes me to personally address these allegations, not only to dispel falsehood, but as a gesture of good faith before the galaxy. Upholding the Jedi tradition of integrity, honesty, and responsibility is ever our commitment," he adjusted the datapad in his palms.

"And so, in the spirit of that great tradition, I stand before you today to speak the truth. The truth that all of you, as Republic citizens under my protection during war, deserve to hear," he swallowed. "The truth that I have erred grievously in keeping from you and my own mentors the past three years. In short, the allegations are all true."

A full, heavy second passed before the wave of his words hit the entire crowd – and then it was as if a tidal wave truly _had_ landed. Chaos erupted, a thousand different tongues roaring to be heard.

"How will you balance career and family?"

"When is senator Amidala due?"

"Will your children be trained as Jedi?"

"Will senator Amidala continue to serve in the Senate?"

"How did you hide the truth for so long?"

"Is the senator in good health?"

"How did your mentor take the news?"

Anakin raised an unsteady hand to demand silence. Few, if any, honored the gesture.

"Before I say anything further, let me first state that my actions are in no way sanctioned by the Council," his volume increased above the din below him. "None were privy to my marriage until yesterday, and after learning this deeply troubling news, they placed an immediate suspension on my Jedi duties and privileges."

The frenzy was in full force now, with no hope of him restoring order. All he could do was press through the rest of the speech with clear diction. If they were too raucous to hear, it was their own fault. At least he'd fulfill his duty and finish this horrid affair.

"My future within the Jedi Order is currently undecided. Given the state of galactic unrest, the Council has chosen to defer sentencing me until proper time and attention can be given. I regret to inform you that my services to the Jedi and the Republic are unavailable until further notice."

The roaring was furious now. Anakin cast a paranoid glance at the hundred clone soldiers guarding the perimeter. No riots had sparked yet, but at this rate, it might not be long.

"I unequivocally accept full and total responsibility for my actions and their consequences," he had to shout now. He could barely hear his own voice. "I have brought shame upon myself and the entire Order."

He feared his eardrums would shatter at any moment.

"I realize you have many questions, and rightly so, but this is full extent of information the Council deems prudent to share at this time. More will be revealed when appropriate. Until then, the Council will offer no further comment on the situation. Any attempts to contact them will be ignored."

Scrolling to the bottom of the datapad screen, he blinked. It was almost over.

"In closing, you are under no obligation to forgive me. No amount of apologizing can amend the many wrongs I have committed against the Code and, consequently, against the Republic. So I beg for compassion not for my own sake, but for my wife and unborn children. My family may never be condoned by the Council, but they deserve the same dignity and basic respect as any other Republic citizen. Please don't make them suffer for my transgressions."

His speech was now complete – he should have withdrawn, retreated to where Obi-Wan waited with their shuttle. Yet the scene paralyzed him with its gruesome fascination. The countless screaming faces, lividly distorted by outrage, shock, incredulity, and above all… betrayal.

"How could you do this to us?" one voice pierced through, appalled and demanding.

"Who will protect us now?"

"Was it worth this? Abandoning those who need you most?"

"Where did Obi-Wan go wrong with you?"

He knew he needed to pull away, to stop the verbal assault from pouring into his ears and soul, but he stood morbidly transfixed. _Take a long, hard look Anakin_, something whispered inside. _This is the sum of all your training, all the years you've served with unwavering loyalty and superior skill. This is the gratitude, the critical acclaim. Remember it well. It may be the only recognition ceremony you ever receive._

Something touched his elbow, his new one. The sensation was foreign enough to snap him out of his masochistic haze.

Padmé didn't say a word as she led him away from the podium and turned her back to the roiling masses. Nothing could be said, for that matter. Other than the fact that their imminent space travel would be woefully long and painful for all on board.

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Cabin lights were dimmed over Anakin and Padmé's heads, with only some faint running lights and a flashing climate control panel illuminating the pair. They preferred it no other way. More light meant a clearer view of other's sullen faces, etching every crease and frown line in miserable detail. It was better to sulk in relative gloom. Their paranoid, half-lidded glances went largely undetected that way.

It didn't help that there were precious few points on which to rest their eyes. Cramped was a generous way of describing the ship's quarters. If it made Anakin's joints ache, he could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for Padmé. He had half a mind to storm the bridge to demand what Obi-Wan was thinking when he chose this escape pod.

He couldn't honestly say which was more claustrophobic: the cabin itself or the emotional tension it contained.

At one point, for no reason than to see what would happen, he spoke.

"Are you comfortable enough? Do you need me to get you anything?"

He saw her shift out of the corner of his eye. "No, I'm fine. Just a little warm."

Anakin threw a brooding glare at the climate control box. As close as they were to the engines, it was no use trying to lower the temperature.

Something else occurred to him then. "Does your family know to expect us?"

A sharp intake of air from across the room meant she'd failed to consider this as well.

"We can't risk contacting them and having the transmission intercepted," she lamented. "They'll just have to be surprised." _My mother will surely faint at the sight of me. And my sister…oh…_

Silence followed. Anakin couldn't argue with her reasoning. The last thing he'd expect a ship like this to have was a securely coded channel.

The Naberries would indeed be surprised, then. By a great many things.

But what would trouble them most was anyone's guess. A secret son-in-law. Secret grandchildren. Their daughter's deception, scandal, and fall from political grace. Her utterly inscrutable future. _Take your pick, Ruwee and Jobal. There's more than enough indignity to go around_.

And more than enough time for everyone to marinate in it.

Oh, how this trip to Naboo differed from the one seven months ago. And yet, how inextricably linked the two were.

Of very few things was Anakin certain anymore. Yet he knew, with unsettling certainty, that a confluence of past, present and future awaited him in the heart of Naboo's wilderness. Obi-Wan might as well have been piloting him straight into a black hole.

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_Again, if the Jedi temple doesn't have a garden, pretend it does. Also pretend it has a pavilion inside that garden._


	20. Chapter 19

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**Chapter 19**

Rain was falling across the Senate district when a travel-weary Obi-Wan entered it the following night. Depressing weather was the last thing his spirit needed. While he was no stranger to long days of interplanetary touring, this trip had been more mind-numbing than most.

_Great. They finally get the WeatherNet heat modifiers under control, only to soak us into a damp, sticky mess_, he grumbled, eyes drooping as he made for the senate building. Quite possibly the last edifice on the planet he wanted to be approaching right now.

Yoda, however, had hijacked his plans for a quiet evening of decompression when the green Jedi contacted him an hour ago. The Chancellor was beside himself with concern, he was told. He'd been a nervous wreck since the press conference the previous morning; he needed to be fully briefed and reassured. And not just by anyone – by he who was closest to Anakin. He who had just delivered him to an undisclosed location. He who had been the last to see or speak to him.

_Qui-Gon, if you're watching, I hope you're happy_, Obi-Wan frowned. _I always knew the boy would be trouble. Although "trouble" doesn't quite seem to fit… more like catastrophic_.

But at least he was safe, for the time being. At least the butt-numbing voyage had been a quiet one. Edged with more tension than you could slice a lightsaber through, but quiet nonetheless. In fact, his passengers were so inconspicuous that he almost forgot he had any. It made for a dreary trip, to be sure, but no less pleasant than the alternative.

Dwelling on the past 48 hours would have to wait. Right now, he had to concentrate on balancing truth and diplomacy with the one individual for whom that balance was especially crucial.

He found Palpatine exactly as he expected, pacing his office with the rainfall's muffled, hollow dripping in the background. Relief washed over the old man's face the instant he saw Obi-Wan appear in the doorway.

"Master Kenobi, how anxious I've been waiting for your arrival! Please come in and be seated."

Brushing off the few remaining raindrops from his cloak, Obi-Wan gave a graciously exhausted smile. "If you don't mind, Chancellor, I prefer to stand. I fear if I sit back down, I may not stand up again until tomorrow morning."

"Of course, you've just returned from a long voyage, so Master Yoda tells me," Palpatine acknowledged. Obi-Wan could sense the implied question, the thinly veiled attempt to extract information.

"Yes, rather long indeed," he replied, ignoring the probe. "But I'm here now, and ready to address as many of your concerns as I can."

"And for that, I cannot express my gratitude enough," Palpatine looked at him with eyes equally exhausted as his own. "I've hardly known what to think since yesterday morning. And when I contacted the Council, only to be told you were the sole point of contact for the matter, and that you'd already departed with Anakin and senator Amidala… I was in a state of near panic!"

Obi-Wan rubbed one eye. "There's no need to panic. Nothing disastrous has happened, nor should anytime soon."

"Oh, but with all due respect, I could not disagree more! One of our finest, most heroic defenders has been taken away! With the war at its critical apex, how can one not panic under such circumstances? How can it be considered anything _less_ than disastrous?"

"Chancellor, I understand the situation is troubling, but we must examine it objectively," Obi-Wan advised. "We must not allow fear or any other emotion to cloud our judgment. Now, if you have any questions for which I can provide concrete answers, I'll be more than happy to hear them."

Sighing, Palpatine fumbled with his own cloak. "You're right, of course. I apologize. This has all been so shocking and unexpected, my nerves aren't handling it as gracefully as usual."

"As I said, it's understandable. There's no need to apologize."

"Well, let's begin again. My first question is how you and the Council were unaware of these… developments for so long?"

It was Obi-Wan's turn to sigh. "Honestly, that's not easily answered. I've long held my own suspicions about Anakin's attachment to senator Amidala, but they fell pitifully short of reality," he looked down in frustration. "Reflecting on it now, I failed to follow those suspicions through as I should have. And if I – Anakin's own mentor – reported nothing to the Council, then they had no reason to think anything was amiss."

Much to Obi-Wan's relief, Palpatine nodded, evidently satisfied with that explanation. The less said about the Jedi's shortcomings, the better.

"Have you known anything like this to ever occur before?"

"Another complicated question," Obi-Wan folded his arms. "The short answer is yes, but the individual circumstances vary. Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, for instance, was granted permission to marry because of his species' low birth rates. When an entire race's vitality is at stake, the Council sees what is and isn't in the galaxy's best interest," he explained.

"I see," Palpatine rubbed his chin. "And the human species is obviously far from endangered!"

"That goes without saying," Obi-Wan smirked briefly. "Ranik Solusar was the last human Jedi to be reprimanded for marrying. He tried to use past precedent to defend himself, reminding us of the many Corellian Jedi families once permitted," he recalled. "But that was over a thousand years ago, long before the Ruusan Reformation solidified the Jedi code."

"Fascinating. I was unfamiliar with the Order's broad history," the Chancellor feigned intrigue. "About the other human, Solusar – you said he was reprimanded, but not expelled?"

"Correct. He was stripped of many honors he'd received during his career, and barred from ever reaching the rank of Master."

Nodding, Palpatine placed his hands behind his back. "Would it not be sensible, then, to apply similar penalties to Skywalker? Why is his punishment still undetermined?"

In no way did Obi-Wan appreciate having the Council's internal affairs critiqued. "Our reasoning and disciplinary process are our own business, Chancellor. What might seem straightforward to you can be much more complex than it appears. We ask you to respect our judgment in the matter."

"I meant no disrespect, Master Kenobi," Palpatine's steady gaze was unapologetic. "The Jedi do, of course, reserve the exclusive right to deliver justice to their own members."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan replied. "And while we're not obliged to explain that justice, I will tell you that the particulars of this case are unique. There are several factors – Anakin's history of defiance, his heavy involvement in the war, his choice of a high-profile wife – that Solusar did not share. Not everything falls neatly into line with past precedent."

Palpatine ruminated over this, his mouth twisting in silent thought.

"In short, the Council has the invidious task of deciding what would be more disruptive: expelling Anakin, or accommodating his divided loyalties between family and duty," Obi-Wan concluded. "There are many reasons the Code forbids marriage. The major distraction it creates is just one."

"Understood… but if I may say so, I am of the opinion that if any Jedi possesses the wisdom and skill to balance both, it's Anakin," Palpatine stated.

"Your vote of confidence has been noted," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "But it cannot be said enough that the Council's judgment is autonomous."

"Of course, of course. Again, I mean no disrespect, master Kenobi. But as Chancellor, and as one of many citizens weary of this war, I'd be remiss if I did not express my misgivings."

"Which are?"

"That temporarily removing Skywalker from the war will severely harm our cause, and that his permanent removal will mortally cripple it," Palpatine replied.

It took some effort for Obi-Wan to remain civil. "I understand your concern, Chancellor. All I can do is assure you that Master Yoda and I unequivocally agreed that sending Anakin away was the most prudent choice. I can also tell you that whatever we decide regarding his future, it too will be the most prudent choice for all involved. And it will not be decided lightly. Of that you have our solemn word."

Seeing that Obi-Wan wasn't about to tip the Council's hand, not even to one as influential as himself, Palpatine paused for a moment. He resumed pacing before the rain-spattered windows, appearing to reflect on the Jedi's words.

"Truthfully, I'm no more at ease than I was an hour ago," he remarked with his back to Obi-Wan. "But it appears I have no choice but to dutifully await the Council's verdict. It is, after all, your verdict to deliver."

Obi-Wan sensed he had more to say and waited to respond.

"All I can ask is that you consider the innumerable, invaluable deeds Anakin has done these past three years. I'm certain your wisdom and judgment are sound, but his good works cannot be revisited enough. Please, promise me you'll keep them in the forefront of your minds."

"We will not forget," Obi-Wan assured him. "I promise."

"Thank you. That much, at least, sustains my hope."

"I'm glad. Have you anything further to ask?"

Palpatine shook his head, though the slant of his mouth was clearly reproving. "No, thank you. My other questions would be banal at best. For instance, I assume you've arranged for Anakin and Padmé's security, wherever they are?"

"As a matter of fact, that hasn't been officially arranged yet," Obi-Wan straightened his posture. "I was asked to present that issue to you tonight."

"You mean you sent them away with no security whatsoever?" Palpatine paled.

"In the hectic course of events, we lacked the time to arrange it. Priorities were made and unfortunately, it got delayed."

The Chancellor looked as though he'd just heard General Grievous had entered the building. "Say no more. Consider it done… I'll send a squadron to report to you immediately," he reached for the comlink sitting on his desk, brusquely entered a series of numbers, and closed his fist over the device with a tight-lipped expression.

"We are grateful for your aid," Obi-Wan bowed. "Especially with troops already spread so thin."

The subtle sarcasm wasn't lost on Palpatine, who returned it in his own smile. "It is indeed a sacrifice, but a relatively small one in the grand scope of things. I do what I must to preserve the greater good. Something the Jedi no doubt recognize and respect," he looked down his nose, smiling condescendingly.

"That it is," Obi-Wan forced an equally disingenuous grin. _It's_ _also the special treatment I've come to expect whenever Anakin's involved_.

"Very good then. I'm sure we share the same hope that Skywalker and Amidala return sooner rather than later, but the troops are at your disposal as long as they're needed."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Obi-Wan bowed, signaling the end of their meeting. "The Council will keep in close contact with your office, as always."

Palpatine nodded. "Good evening, Master Kenobi. Rest well and take care, not only for yourself but for your apprentice."

Obi-Wan was halfway to the exit when one last thought sparked in his tired brain. He turned to face the Chancellor with a wan but satisfied smile.

"I was just recalling what you said at the rescue crash site four days ago."

"Oh? You'll have to refresh my memory."

"You said you couldn't imagine how you'd ever repay us," Obi-Wan's eyes gleamed. "But as predicted, you found a way."

Leaving the usually articulate Chancellor speechless, the Jedi master offered another parting bow, still smiling to himself as he reclaimed his cockpit minutes later.

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_Ranik Solusar… Ruusan Reformation… thanks to Wookieepedia, I actually sound like I know my stuff! I'd be lost without it._


	21. Chapter 20

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**Chapter 20**

A twinge of panic licked Padmé's nerves when she opened her eyes and failed to recognize her surroundings. She felt the familiar softness of her nightgown on her skin, but everything else was all wrong. The bed beneath her was notably softer than usual. Instead of the sharp, defined skyline of commercial towers silhouetted against the curtains, she saw the vague outline of waving tree boughs. Distant speeder engines had been replaced by the soft sound of birds chirping.

Certainly not an unpleasant scene to find herself in unexpectedly, but still alarming until she regained full consciousness.

Planted face-down in the pillow beside her, Anakin clearly was far from regaining his.

Her anxiety slowly retreated as the memory of the past two days returned. She closed her eyes, suddenly wishing she hadn't woken.

The tabloid… the press conference… the flight with Obi-Wan, after which she and Anakin were chaperoned right up to the final step to her sister Sola's door.

The kaleidoscope of emotions, poignant and tear-inducing as they mixed with the moist summer night air. Falling asleep on the couch while recounting the past year's events to her astonished sister and brother-in-law. Waking the following morning to find that Anakin had transported her to the guest bedroom… the same bedroom in which she now awoke, on their second morning of exile.

The twenty-six hours between those moments of waking were somewhat of a blur, but she was too overcome with shame and dejection to care. Anakin had spent the majority of those hours in stony silence anyway. So there wasn't much worth remembering. A sentimental vacation this was surely not, and she'd do well to bear that in mind, no matter how sweet the air smelled or how enchanting the view.

Angling the crook of her arm across her eyes with a sigh, she heard Ryoo and Pooja's high-pitched voices arguing from the kitchen. _Sibling rivalry… add that to the list of things I'm really not looking forward to in the coming years._

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do _too!_"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Do too! You followed him around all day yesterday!"

Padmé had the privilege of shuffling into the kitchen in the midst of her nieces' hot debate. She passed an uncertain glance between the girls and Sola, who was too preoccupied with flipping pancakes to intervene just yet.

"Did not! And even if I did, _you_ were staring at him–"

Pooja, the younger of the two with hair tied into curly pigtails, stopped short upon seeing Padmé enter the room. At that point, both she and her sister froze. With eyes wider than saucers and lips snapped tightly shut, their cheeks grew redder by the minute.

"Well, it suddenly got a lot quieter in here," Sola remarked with her back still turned. "You two finally ready for breakfast?"

When neither child responded, Sola turned in mild confusion.

"Oh, Padmé! You're up," she exclaimed. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you. Girls, why haven't you said good morning to your Aunt Padmé?"

They responded by throwing a fit of shy, squirming giggles as they pinched and tickled each other in self-conscious glee. Sola frowned briefly before rolling her eyes.

"Oh… _I _think I know why," she curled a finger toward Padmé and leaned closer. "Ryoo just accused Pooja of liking Anakin. You know, a little _more_ than a niece should like an uncle?" she whispered, nudging Padmé's elbow.

Padmé had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Her eyes were nearly as wide as the girls' had been a minute ago.

"You're serious!" she exhaled in pure amazement.

"Very. Frankly, I think Ryoo's just as guilty as her younger sister… but of course neither of them will admit it," Sola smirked playfully. "They haven't fought like this for at least two weeks. I'm not surprised they woke you up."

"I was already awake," Padmé assured her. "If anything, the wonderful smell of your cooking was what got me out of bed!"

Sola smirked again and lowered her gaze to Padmé's stomach. "I believe that!" she shook her head, guiding her younger sister toward the table. "Have a seat. I made plenty, so don't be shy… unlike these two," she tickled the girls' necks as she passed by, prompting them to giggle again.

"Has Darred left already?"

"Yes, he'll be back later this afternoon, same as yesterday," Sola placed a platter of food in the table's center. "Ah, the glamorous life of an architect!"

Padmé's face fell, though she tried to hide it. "Sometimes glamour isn't all it's cracked up to be," she said to herself as much to Sola.

Her sister caught her despondent tone and interpreted it quickly enough. "Padmé, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to be insensitive…"

"I know, I know… it's all right. It's just that sometimes, I'm not sure what I wouldn't give to have an ordinary life like yours."

Sola's eyes reflected her sister's melancholy self-reflection. But the younger members of the breakfast assembly, far less attuned to the room's emotional pulse, sought to change the sad course the morning had taken. Pooja in particular had adopted an inquisitive look while stuffing her cheeks with pancakes.

"Aunt Padmé?"

"Yes Pooja?" Padmé was surprised one of them had the courage to speak to her, after the Anakin gaffe.

The seven-year-old chewed a little more. "Mommy says there are two babies in your tummy. Is that true?"

"Yes it is," Padmé answered.

"How come there are two instead of one?" Ryoo asked.

Padmé hastily reached for a glass of milk to keep from choking. After swallowing what she could, she shot Sola a loaded glance from across the table. Her sister merely raised her eyebrows, as if to affirm that the question had not been asked of her.

"Well girls… you see…"

From the corner of her eye, Padmé could tell Sola was enjoying the scene immensely. Seeing one of the galaxy's most eloquent, diplomatic speakers fumbling for words must have been rather entertaining.

"You should really ask your mother or father," Padmé rushed the words, stabbing a pancake. Ryoo glanced sideways at her sister who did the same, as if to silently gripe, _that's what we get every time_.

"Girls, let your aunt eat her breakfast in peace, all right? She's had a long, busy week," Sola admonished, though the impish gleam in her eyes lingered. Padmé's gratitude was somewhat less than enthusiastic, but she made no further protest.

By the time the quartet finished clearing their plates, Anakin still wasn't up. Sola left the remaining pancakes in the food warmer with a note nearby; once the children had departed for school, she led Padmé to lounge on the back veranda. A trio of strikingly blue and yellow birds sprung from the balcony as the two women entered the space.

"So when will you contact Mother and Father?" Sola asked meekly, studying the leaves of one of her balcony plants. Without turning around, she knew the expression on Padmé's face. It was carefully drawn, controlled yet immensely vulnerable.

"I don't know," she replied just as timidly.

"You know you can't put it off forever. Didn't you say you have to reach the Gallo Mountains within a few days? That doesn't leave you much time to visit."

A distressed sigh was the only response.

"Padmé, what's the matter?" Sola stepped over to touch her sister's shoulder. "You're home, you're safe here. Why are you so anxious?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Padmé snapped. "This isn't just a quaint little trip home for me. I'm not here because I was feeling homesick. That's the cruel irony, Sola. I'm here against my will, and you know what? That's the only way I ever _see_ you anymore!" she pursed her lips bitterly. "What sort of woman keeps so many secrets from her own family? And then pulls away from them because of those secrets, only to be forced back when she has nowhere to turn?"

"A woman with conviction and devotion, that's who. Don't paint yourself in such a horrible light, Padmé. You had to make a choice… and if I were in your position, I doubt I'd have chosen any differently."

"Sure you would have," Padmé countered. "You've always been the good daughter, Sola. Marrying young, staying close to home and having a family. You'd never find yourself in my position to begin with, much less choose to conceal it this long."

"Shh. You did what you had to in order to serve the galaxy with your unique gifts. Those gifts may be changing now, but that doesn't mean the past few years have been a mistake," Sola reflected. "Now I don't want to hear any more self-deprecating talk. Things may not go as planned, but you can still make the most of it. Enjoy yourself, regardless of what brought you here."

Though Padmé found the advice absurd, she surrendered the argument. Discord between sisters certainly wouldn't help ease that which waited in her parents' home.

Sola rubbed her younger sister's back lightly. "Everything will be fine, you'll see. They'll be shocked at first, but trust me Padmé, they'll be overjoyed in the next instant. You know we've all been hoping and waiting for you to settle down," she winked.

Padmé's face twisted as she peered into the distant foliage. "That's what worries me most, Sola. I don't know if I'm _ready_ to settle down… or if I ever can be."

"What do you mean? You don't want to raise your children?" Sola tried to hide her dismay.

"I do… but I don't. Oh, it sounds horrible that way! What I mean is… it's complicated," Padmé rubbed her eyes. "The way I've envisioned my future as a mother, it's always been murky. Foggy, like there _could_ be something there, only I can't make it out clearly. Does that make any sense at all?"

Sola nodded vaguely, listening between the lines. "Your whole life has been focused on something else, and you aren't sure if that's due to chance or lack of maternal instinct."

Relief flooded Padmé's face. "Yes! That's exactly it. Oh Sola, you don't know how I've struggled with this, especially when I feared I might become a single parent. It terrified me almost as much as losing Anakin himself," she confessed. "I feel insecure, frightened, and guilty all at the same time! Sometimes I can't remember when I ever felt any different!"

"Padmé…"

Hearing a smile in Sola's voice, Padmé looked up, only to find her sister knowingly grinning.

"You do realize those feelings are perfectly normal. There isn't an expectant mother in the entire universe who hasn't felt the same. Not in any species or on any planet, I guarantee you!"

Padmé couldn't help but return Sola's smile. "Really?"

"In my opinion, you should be concerned if you _didn't_ feel any of those things," Sola reassured her. "Anxiety means you're ready. It means you care, and caring is what children need most."

Such simple, basic logic had eluded Padmé all the hours she'd spent kneading her heart and brain into a worried frenzy. Could it really be that easy? Was she actually lights years more fit to be a mother than she gave herself credit for? It seemed too good to be true… yet Sola's wisdom was sound. What did children need most, if not care? Perhaps she was over-thinking it all. It certainly wouldn't have been her first time, she realized with a self-effacing smirk.

"Thank you, Sola. I don't know what I'd do without you," she hugged her sister.

"Probably experience fewer embarrassing interrogations at the hands of my daughters, for one thing," Sola laughed.

"Yes, how kind of you to remind me," Padmé scoffed, shaking her head. "Those two are even more precocious than they were three years ago, and I thought they were bad then!"

Sola shook her head as well. "You're telling me. I can only ward off their questions for so long… I was rather hoping you'd step up for that duty!"

"And tell them what, exactly? _'Well girls, there are two babies instead of one because your Uncle Anakin was feeling extra generous one night…'_"

"Extra generous, indeed!" Sola gasped, swatting Padmé's shoulder. "You'd never dare to say anything like that to them! …would you?" she hesitated.

While Padmé toyed with the idea of not responding, just to get even with Sola for being entertained by Ryoo and Pooja's antics, a tall shadow shifted into her peripheral view. As if on cue, arriving at the very moment he was being discussed, Anakin stood before them with hair still disheveled from sleep.

"There you two are," he yawned, face pinching as he stretched. "The door chime… you didn't hear it out here?"

Sola and Padmé exchanged looks of innocence. "No, we haven't heard anything. Is someone here?" the woman of the house asked, craning to see around Anakin.

"Guess that explains why I had to play butler," Anakin scowled, clearly unhappy with being woken prematurely. "Yeah, you could say we've got visitors. About a dozen troops are standing on the front porch."

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_My favorite chapter to write so far, hands down. Some light-hearted comic relief in the midst of all the deep, dark drama. ;)_


	22. Chapter 21

_Such kind, generous reviews! Thank you! :D_

_What's Palpatine up to while Anakin & Padme are on Naboo? Plotting and scheming, as always. ;) Just wait._

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**Chapter 21**

"CT-53 reporting for duty, General Skywalker."

The squadron's sergeant saluted Anakin beneath the Janrens' flowering arbor. There was something both comical and disturbing about the scene – ten pairs of shoulders clad in dented white armor, standing to attention not five feet away from a bucket of Ryoo and Pooja's toys. One of the troopers' boots was planted on a bright pink jump-rope.

Anakin took it all in, uncertain what to say. Should he even still be addressed as "General" anymore? These men obviously thought so, but whether it was from necessity or an informal sense of homage, he hadn't a clue.

Padmé interceded when she saw Anakin stumped for words. "Welcome, sergeant. You were sent by the Chancellor, I presume?"

"Affirmative, senator. We were dispatched shortly before midnight with orders to locate and guard the Janren household," CT-53 replied. "That is, until you and General Skywalker proceed to your next destination. We will accompany you at all times."

Sola's eyebrows rose. "And where do you all intend to sleep until their 'next destination?'"

"We all carry standard-issue tent pods, ma'am. No lodging is necessary, and neither is food. We come prepared to do our duty with minimal intrusion."

Sola was visibly relieved by this. The prospect of ten battle-hardened soldiers invading her house, filling the rooms with foreboding tension while they ate her out of house and home… it nearly made her faint.

"Very good then, we'll leave you to secure the grounds," Anakin nodded, turning halfway back toward the house. "And Sergeant?"

"Yes sir?"

"Just call me Mr. Skywalker while we're here. Or better yet, just Anakin. All right?"

No one could see the surprise on CT-53's face. "If that's what you prefer, sir…"

"Until further notice, it is."

Brooding and grim, his voice matched the self-loathing scowl he flashed them before stalking back inside. Neither woman quite knew how to end on a gracious note after that.

"Ah, excuse me senator, but there's one last matter of business," CT-53 said uncertainly.

"Yes, what is it?"

"General Kenobi asked us to deliver this transmitter," he opened a gloved palm to reveal the small disc. "It has a more secure channel than the one he initially left you with. He requests you and General – I mean, _Mr_. Skywalker contact him at the end of each day."

"Thank you," Padmé let the device fall into her outstretched hands. "And thank you for coming. I'm sorry Anakin left so abruptly… I speak for both of us when I say we're incredibly grateful for your service."

"Not at all, milady. Just doing our sworn duty," CT-53 saluted, directing his troops to scatter across Sola and Darred's verdant, sprawling lawn. The two sisters watched in stunned silence as the squadron occupied the yard with blaster rifles held at ready angles. It was surreal, having the war so viscerally close to home. It literally couldn't come any closer.

The shape and weight of the transmitter in her hand eventually brought Padmé back to earth. Yet even then, she found herself able to do little more than stare at the object, gazing absently through it as if it were no more than a holo-image itself.

"Well, this is quite the festive party," Sola murmured, still following the troopers' heavy footsteps. "I wish you'd have at least warned me they were coming."

"I'm sorry," Padmé sighed. "My mind hasn't been my own since we got here, Sola. Sometimes I jolt awake from a daydream and wonder what, if anything, is real anymore."

"It's all right Padmé, I'm not angry," Sola assured her, then cocked a smile. "But… I do think this might be a sign."

"A sign? For what?"

"That now is the time to visit Mother and Father," Sola winked. "Unless, of course, you think my landscaping is so bad that clone troopers are an improvement!"

Padmé laughed in rueful embarrassment. "You're right. It's not fair to you if we stay much longer. I'll tell Anakin to pack our things."

Looking Padmé in the eye, Sola removed all jest from her voice. "You know I don't want you to leave. But this is for the best. Sooner or later you have to move on and face the inevitable," she hugged her lightly. "And you won't be alone. I'll go to Theed with you and Anakin."

"Really?" Padmé's eyes brimmed with gratitude. "Thank you… I don't know what I've done to deserve such a sister!"

"Nonsense, it's like the sergeant said a minute ago – just doing my sworn duty," Sola smiled. "That's what family does, after all. We keep each other safe and sane in times of trouble."

While the sentiment warmed Padmé's heart, a tremor of a chill also shot through it. Something in her words had struck a nerve, somewhere deep in the catacombs of feral, raw fears.

_That's what family does… keep each other safe and sane in times of trouble… _So much truth was suspended between those simple words, the full import of which she may never fully realize.

Just as surely as Anakin never would.

She had a support system, a net to break her fall, even if she'd spent the last several years pretending she could survive without it. Yet Anakin had nothing. No parent, no sibling to provide safety or sanity. What this meant for his future, their future, was something she neither wanted nor knew how to anticipate.

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Everything about the Naberrie homestead looked just as it always had. Not a single chip was missing from the grand stone arch; none of the planters lining the steps had moved an inch. Each still boasted a full, robust plant whose flowers all fell within the bolder range of the pink spectrum. Nothing was the least bit out of place. Even the sun's angle seemed identical to that warm afternoon three years ago – and the man walking beside Padmé was unchanged as well.

Well, perhaps _unchanged_ wasn't the correct word. He might still be outwardly identifiable as Anakin Skywalker, but as for being the same person… that was open to interpretation.

The quartet of adults – including Darred, who'd managed to cut his workday short to join the excursion – halted just before stepping out of the arch's shadow, with the small legion of troops bringing up the rear. Ryoo and Pooja squinted inquisitively at their mother, who was practically skipping with anticipation.

"Wait here," she instructed Anakin and Padmé. "I'll bring Mother and Father out as fast as I can!"

Shrugging, Darred cocked a smile at his wife's eager agitation and followed her up the stairs, children in tow.

Naboo's summer was arguably more bearable than Coruscant's, but the heat didn't mix well with Padmé's anxiety. Soon her head was spinning as it had en route to the library last week. Backpedaling against the cool, sandy stone blocks of the archway, she lowered her head and tried to breathe.

"Are you all right?" Anakin rushed over, fearing she'd collapse.

"I…" Padmé exhaled raggedly, "I don't know…"

Glancing around frantically, Anakin spotted a bench under the low-hanging boughs of a Zanda tree. He didn't hesitate to sweep her into his arms and deposit her across the courtyard.

"You… didn't have to do that," she protested weakly, eyes flickering as she lay upon the bench.

"No arguing," Anakin chastised. "One way or another, you'd have ended up on the ground, which is far too dirty _and_ too difficult to lift you from."

Somehow in her heat-stroke haze, Padmé managed to smile. Her husband's sense of humor still existed, even though he kept it hidden most days. At least this little episode had temporarily taken her mind off her parents…

…Who she now saw behind Anakin, descending into the courtyard with wide-eyed curiosity.

Yet she was too exhausted to move, much less care at this point.

Sensing their presence, Anakin slowly turned in his squatting position, one hand still resting on Padmé's swollen stomach. The look that passed between him and the elders was as charged as Sith lightning. Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie's mouths fell open in synchronized, total shock at the figure lying on that bench.

"P- Padmé…?" Jobal stuttered, refusing to believe her unblinking eyes. Her hands reached for her cheeks and her feet shuffled forward involuntarily.

"Mother…" Padmé tried to smile, but feared it looked more like a grimace. Struggling to sit up, she let Anakin bring her upright, her eyes no longer perpendicular to her parents' – which were looking nowhere but at the obvious bulge in their daughter's belly. Ruwee in particular appeared to be seconds away from massive intestinal rupture.

"Stars," Jobal gasped. "When Sola called and told us to expect a _surprise_…"

"Surprise!" Sola grinned triumphantly.

"Do… you care to explain?" Ruwee rumbled through a locked jaw. His fists were tightening into balls of fury, something noticed by the clone squad behind him.

Sola finally picked up on the tension. "Father, there's no need to be upset. Anakin and Padmé are –"

"Married," Anakin finished, standing to full height before Ruwee. "Thank you Sola, I'll take it from here."

Jobal appeared to be in danger of fainting, just as her younger daughter had minutes ago. She laid a palm across her forehead. "Married? How can this be? Padmé, you said nothing to us! I'm beside myself… I honestly don't know what to say…"

"We should probably go inside," Anakin suggested. "Out in the hot sun really isn't the best place for this."

Collective silence was all he received for agreement. Raising Padmé from the bench, he was acutely aware of Ruwee and Jobal's astonished expressions as she waddled toward them across uneven cobblestones. The procession to the house was like an odd somber parade where nobody spoke, yet the center of attention was undisputed.

Once inside, Jobal seemed to recover some sense of awareness, rushing ahead to prepare a comfortable seat for Padmé in the sitting room. She stood anxiously beside it, making certain Padmé knew where to rest. An involuntary gasp escaped her as Padmé sat down.

"My goodness dear, you're…"

"Enormous?" Padmé volunteered.

Jobal blinked, flushing a little. "I don't mean to be rude, but… well, yes."

"It's all right Mother, I'm well aware. Being in denial about it won't help anything," Padmé responded.

"I only say so because you must be due any day now," her mother sat on a loveseat next to Ruwee, who still looked half-murderous. Anakin had anchored himself behind Padmé to demonstrate protectiveness and pride.

"I wish I were," Padmé sighed. "I'm not due for almost two more months."

Jobal looked at her in total alarm. "_Two more_ months? My dear child, you'll surely burst before then! Are you sure the due date was calculated correctly?"

"Yes Mother," Padmé laughed lightly. "You needn't be alarmed – it's twins."

"Oh!" Jobal nearly fell off her seat with relief. "_That_ explains it! Not that it makes my head swim any less… oh Padmé, what on earth would possess you to hide all this from us? Have we been such a horrible family to you?"

Padmé winced. This was exactly the reaction she'd been expecting and dreading for longer than she could remember.

"Before you say anything, Padmé, let me," Anakin spoke up, quietly yet dignified. "Mr. and Mrs. Naberrie, I understand your dismay. But berating your daughter is neither good for her health nor that of this family. It's going to take some time to adjust, I know, but if we all respect one another, the process will be less painful for everyone."

"Respect?" Ruwee erupted. "You dare ask for our respect, when you've done nothing but blatantly refuse it to us?" He went from raging indignation to cold suspicion the next instant. "You're not even supposed to marry. Isn't that right?"

Anakin stiffened. _Leave it to Padmé's family to know the entire galaxy's political & personal business_. "That's correct. But –"

"Oh, I think I understand. You _had_ to marry her, didn't you?" Ruwee sneered. "You had to decide which was a worse violation of Jedi code: marry her, or leave her alone and pregnant. I suppose I should be grateful you chose the former," he snorted.

_What is this? First Obi-Wan's assumptions, now these? Does no one see me as remotely honorable?_ Clenching his own fists to reign in his anger, he said flatly, "Sir, you've got it all wrong. Padmé and I have been married over three years."

"Three years?" Jobal's jaw dropped. "That… that means…"

"Not long after we last visited you," Padmé finished her mother's thought again. "We married at Varykino. Nobody knew, not even our closest comrades. I wanted to tell you," tears quivered behind her eyelids. "But the war began, and we didn't want to compromise our roles…"

Jobal shook her head with sad awe. "Well, one thing's for sure, those roles are about to change."

"We know." Padmé's eyes fell.

Her mother's concern seemed to grow with each passing second. "Have you really come to terms with it? What will become of your career?"

"And yours?" Ruwee shot Anakin a pointed look. "Are you even still part of the Order? My understanding of Jedi affairs is limited, but I suspect some rather serious consequences are coming your way, if they haven't already."

How Anakin longed for the harmless, affable Ruwee he'd met three years ago, strolling through the garden discussing Padmé's safety. The topic of conversation hadn't changed much, really. But the attitude with which Ruwee approached it certainly had.

"My status within the Order has been suspended. Due to the media picking up the story, the Council thought it best to send me – us – into temporary exile."

"The media?" Jobal cried. "It's already public knowledge? Oh Padmé, it's worse than I thought!"

"You obviously haven't been to the downtown shops lately," Padmé remarked. "You'd have seen the _Galactic Register_ everywhere."

Padmé had never seen her mother so pale and distraught. Her father, meanwhile, was still as flushed as a tomato – though the color had faded somewhat.

"So you came not to share this _blessed_ time with us, but because you were banished from Coruscant… and possibly your careers at large," Ruwee said with contempt. "What a lovely family reunion!"

His resentment smacked them all like a wave of bricks as he stormed from the room, furious and hurt beyond words. Padmé closed her eyes against the pain she shared all too poignantly with him. Never had she wished more for the earth to open and swallow her whole.

"Don't worry. He'll come around," Jobal quietly said. "He's only upset because he loves you so much. But that same love will soon soften his heart, I promise."

"So if _you're_ not upset, does that mean…?"

"Your father and I react to stress in very opposite ways," Jobal assured Padmé. "I love you no less than he does. We may express ourselves differently, but we share the same heart. And right now, that heart aches from only seeing you when your life is endangered."

Padmé was too stricken with guilt to respond. Trying to blink the tears back into her eyes, she felt more forlorn than ever.

"But you know what, there's an easy remedy for this type of broken heart," Jobal smiled warmly. "Tell me all about my grandchildren, and I'll be cured in no time at all!"

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_Had to stop there – it was getting a little long.  
__What's a Zanda tree? Whatever you want. I made it up._


	23. Chapter 22

_Latest news: having written all the chapters for this story (written, not UPLOADED - there are 39 total, including Prologue & Epilogue), I decided to reward myself with a piece called "Palpatine's Dentures." You'll find the 1st of 4 chapters in my stories. It comes with a disclaimer, and you might want to wait to read it until you've finished this story. Otherwise you may never look at me the same again. Ha! _

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**Chapter 22**

Dinner at the Naberrie household was markedly tense that evening, to no one's honest surprise. An afternoon of long, hushed talks in private quarters had culminated here, with a hastily prepared meal that Jobal believed to be inferior in both quality and quantity.

"I apologize if there aren't enough rolls to go around," she mumbled in hostess shame, passing the basket to her right. "And if anyone would like more meat, I can reheat some from the freezer. It may be a little tough, and it might take a while but I'll gladly do it…"

"Stop being so fastidious," Ruwee scowled slightly. "There's plenty. No one will die of starvation, I'm sure."

Jobal shot him an unappreciative look. "I just don't want anyone to leave the table hungry. Especially…" she glanced in Padmé's direction, raising her eyebrows. Padmé flushed and smiled self-consciously.

"I'll be fine, Mother," she pushed food around on her plate. "If I need anything later, Anakin and I packed plenty of spare rations."

"Which probably taste as good as fambaa meat!" Jobal said with scorn. "No, you won't eat an ounce of that synthetic, dehydrated swill while you're under this roof. Absolutely not," her hands shook as she lowered the last serving bowl. "Tomorrow, I'm sending you off with all the best pantry items I can spare. And I won't hear a single word of protest, understand?"

Padmé saw the immutable lack of compromise in her mother's face and silently acquiesced. As a grown, mature woman, it was a trifle humiliating to have Jobal fuss over her as if she were Pooja's age, but the promise of real food on their journey was too good to pass up.

Silence fell over the table as everyone speared pieces of food with uncertain hands. Anakin seemed to be dodging Padmé's eye contact, just as he had the majority of the past two days. With the rest of the family just as skittish to meet each other's eyes, it was hard to imagine a more awkward scene. The lines between Ruwee and Jobal were pulled taut. As a result, Sola and Darred felt inexplicably guilty if their eyes found each other.

And everyone, including the children, was still trying to normalize having _Anakin Skywalker_ at their humble table as well as in their family. The few times they dared look up from the green and blue-patterned flatware, it was to steal a sacred glance at the legend sitting across from them. They almost expected to see a golden aura veiling his impressive form.

He noticed every flit of an eyelid, each batting of an eyelash. Had this been a true vacation, a simple pleasure trip as they all wished, it might have amused him. But as it was, their constant attention was only a nuisance, like a buzzing insect in his ear. Only they weren't so easily swatted aside. The longer he stayed trapped in this room, in this house with them, the closer he came to losing his mind.

Of course, there was no guarantee he'd completely escape his mental claustrophobia at Dee'Ja Peak, either. But he was willing to place his hope, however spurious, in anything right now. Anything that would give him a solid block of time to sort through the madness of the past week.

Lest he forget that the opportunity to do so was rapidly running out, Padmé hiccupped beside him and rubbed her belly, earning a candid giggle from her nieces.

"When will the babies be here, Aunt Padmé?" Pooja asked, blissfully unaware of the room's brooding tension.

"Not for another few weeks," she replied.

"Can we see them right away?"

Padmé was glad she had to finish chewing before responding. She hardly knew herself, and giving her nieces false hope wasn't much better than disappointing them. Anakin's fork hung inches above his plate as he waited for her answer.

"I wish I could tell you yes, Pooja," she finally choked out. "But I'm not sure when and where they'll be born… if we'll still be on Naboo, or back on Coruscant by then," her eyes darted between the table and Anakin's chest. She couldn't bring herself to look above his chin.

"Babies don't always come when we want or expect them to," Sola added, straightening Pooja's bangs.

Jobal's fidgeting signaled her anxious intent to speak again. "That's true, of course. Have you prepared for the very real possibility that they'll be born in the middle of the Gallo Mountains?"

"There are medical facilities at Dee'Ja Peak," Anakin stated.

"Yes, but from my understanding they're somewhat limited," Jobal's brow creased with worry. "If complications arise, or she needs to be transferred…"

"Then we'll take a transport," he growled, stabbing a piece of meat more aggressively than he should.

The hostile gesture silenced Jobal, who sensed more behind it than mere shame & inconvenience of being stuck on this planet. She'd lived long enough to read people's faces in times of stress, and what she saw etched in Anakin's was as clear as a Lake Country's waterfall: he too was concerned for Padmé's health, possibly more than any of them could fathom. And that, though unpleasant, was reassuring, and was all she really needed to know.

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One hour later, Anakin and Padmé's shimmering blue forms were being projected into the center of the Jedi Council rotunda, with Yoda, Mace, and Obi-Wan their audience. All other masters had retired for the night, given that Coruscant's clock was five hours ahead of Naboo's. At half past midnight, the trio was bleary-eyed and yawning in near synchronization every few minutes.

"I'm afraid we forgot about the time difference. You two will have to contact us a little earlier going forward," Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes. "I've had far too many late nights in a row."

"Indeed we all have," Yoda sighed. "But good to see both of you it is. Glad are we that safe your journey has been so far, and hope that it will continue to be."

"You're moving on from Theed tomorrow, correct?" Obi-Wan leaned forward.

"Yes," Anakin answered, his holo-transmitted face revealing no emotion. "We'll take a public transport first thing in the morning and should reach Dee'Ja Peak by mid-afternoon."

"Make sure you're well-disguised," Mace warned. "As in, _we_ might not even recognize you if we crossed paths."

Nodding, Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "Some body paint and cheap head prosthetics might not be a bad idea. I'm thinking Twi'lek. Theed must have at least one or two beauty enhancement shops," he mused.

"Very good, master," Anakin nodded in response. "We'll visit one on our way out of town."

"Now Padmé, whatever you do, don't go into labor en route. A Twi'lek giving birth to humans might raise a few eyebrows, to say the least," Obi-Wan joked. "But in all seriousness, do be careful. Don't take any chances, no matter how small. The media must be crawling everywhere sniffing for you by now."

Something flickered on Anakin's face, though it could have just been static interference. "Have you spoken with the Chancellor since the press conference?"

"Yes, of course. He authorized a clone squadron to be sent to you… has it not arrived yet?"

"They've arrived," Anakin confirmed. "But I was inquiring about his personal reaction, not his political one."

Obi-Wan blinked, glancing at his two colleagues. "Well, that conversation was private, but I can tell you that Chancellor Palpatine is very invested in your situation and hopes for your swift return, as we all do," he answered diplomatically. "And I'll remind you again that this is _not_ a punishment. Believe me, we'd much rather have you here than halfway across the galaxy. This isn't how we prefer things."

"Understood, master," Anakin replied flatly. His tone was just as inscrutable as his face. Obi-Wan had no way of knowing whether his words were being considered, accepted, or rejected. All he could do was assume the best and continue.

"Then unless Yoda or Mace has anything to add, I think that's all for tonight," Obi-Wan turned to them, who each pursed their lips in deferment. "Goodnight, then. Sleep well and safe travels."

Anakin bowed and Padmé expressed her thanks before they both dissolved away. The faint echo of their words hummed between the three Jedi as they looked at each other.

"Very disquieted, I sense Skywalker's spirit is," Yoda announced.

Obi-Wan's shoulders fell as he leaned back. "That's to be expected, I suppose. It's a rather disquieting situation. Few would be cheerful in such circumstances."

"Not without much meditation," Yoda pressed. "Self-reflection and inner balance, Skywalker has never preferred. Less painful might this experience be if he embraced such things instead of spurned them."

"One of the many ways he's shown contempt and disregard for the Order," Mace frowned.

"I might not be so quick to judge him," Obi-Wan said quietly, doubt lacing his voice as he risked a glance at Windu. The latter gave him a venomous look as Yoda regarded him curiously.

"Please explain yourself, master Obi-Wan. A new perspective have you?"

Sighing from fatigue and uncertainty, Obi-Wan hesitated. "Possibly. It's just… I don't know what to think anymore," he confessed. "Nothing seems black and white as it once did. On one hand, Anakin's behavior is intolerably insolent. Yet on the other, I can't believe he seriously ever meant to harm or sabotage the Order. He _has_ done an immense amount of good, perhaps more than I can quantify. For the life of me, I can't decide if the net result is positive, negative, or somewhere in-between," he finished, sighing again.

"A moral dilemma as old as time," Yoda bowed his head. "How much virtue atones for vice? If both coexist, who decides which one dominates? How do we view both without losing sight of either?"

"Indeed. And lately, I've been pondering the concept of family and its broader impact on an individual," Obi-Wan continued. "All Jedi detach themselves from family at an early age, but the fact is that we still know their status and location. We know if and when our parents or siblings moved, died, or married. So we're not as disconnected as we like to think."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. "But Anakin has no such benefit. He lacks the subconscious comfort of knowing his family's wellbeing because it no longer exists. My point is, maybe if he hadn't lost his mother, he wouldn't have felt the need to grasp for a family."

As usual, Mace appeared skeptical. "You're forgetting that many Jedi have lost entire families to this war. Yet none of them have 'grasped' for a family as Skywalker has. Like Yoda said, he'd be far more advanced in his emotional detachment if only he applied himself to the Code."

Obi-Wan looked more conflicted than ever. "I hear what you're saying, but it is significant that he joined the Order later than most. That delay is neither his fault nor immaterial to his self-disciplinary development."

"Longer had he to form an attachment to Shmi," Yoda concurred. "Less difficult his separation and training would have been, had we found him sooner."

"Exactly. I'm not trying to patently excuse him, but we have to acknowledge this is hardly a standard case, which is why my head's splitting trying to figure it out. Especially since he's performed his Jedi duties so admirably despite so many distractions."

Mace's jaw remained set, but his eyes softened somewhat. In stark contrast was Yoda, whose eyes twinkled from some hidden scheme.

"Your idea it was to send Skywalker and Amidala to Naboo, Obi-Wan," he began. "Now my idea it is to send _you_ to Tatooine."

"Pardon?"

Yoda smiled at Obi-Wan's nonplussed response. "The roots of Skywalker's choices and suffering lie there. Closure I sense you will find, if arrive with an open mind you do."

"I don't understand… what am I to look for? What's to gain by visiting that forsaken planet?"

"That is for the Force to decide," Yoda answered cryptically. "Long have I sensed that not is all as it seems regarding Shmi Skywalker's death. Nothing more can I reveal, for nothing more do I know at this moment. But strong is my intuition. Very strong."

"But what of my directive to track Grievous?"

"Master Windu will carry that until you return."

The other Jedi balked at this. "I can't organize that scale of a search alone! Obi-Wan and I were to work together on this. If he leaves, Grievous will slip farther away than any of us realize!"

"Already slipped well away, Grievous has," Yoda pressed his lips. "A delay of one week or less will not alter much. And if successful Obi-Wan is in uncovering Tatooine's secrets, a valuable ally we may soon regain – one who could redouble our chances of finding Grievous," he glanced between Mace and Obi-Wan, ensuring they knew to whom he was referring. "A worthy risk it is to take, this delay, if by it Skywalker may be exonerated."

Utterly puzzled as to what Yoda saw in this change of course, Obi-Wan was too baffled and tired to contest it. "As you wish, master Yoda. Shall I leave in two days?"

"Yes. And the Force will most definitely be with you."

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_Sorry if Naboo's and Coruscant's clocks are aligned differently than I proposed. I invented it on the fly and that's that._


	24. Chapter 23

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**Chapter 23**

Overcast skies stretched over the exiled Jedi and his wife as they wandered Theed's lesser-known alleys the next morning. With an armed troop of soldiers in tow, they were bound to attract attention, even with their disguises in place.

The beauty shop consultant had outdone himself. For what they paid, the finished effect was really quite amazing. Anakin's mottled green skin complemented Padmé's blue shade, and barely a line could be seen where their scalps met prosthetic head tails. Both had laughed at the other's appearance before Anakin waved a hand to ensure the store owner forgot they ever visited.

The walk to the transport station was slow due to Padmé's gait, but at last they boarded the cruiser with thirty-odd other passengers. Curious stares were a dime a dozen. Fellow travelers couldn't help but peer at the young Twi'lek couple, with him strikingly handsome and her liable to give birth before the trip was through. That ten clone troopers accompanied them was really just a cherry on top.

An older woman seated next to Padmé smiled at her, years of joy and warmth filling the lines around her mouth. "Is this your first trip to Dee'Ja Peak?"

Padmé nodded, bashful yet sensing this woman meant no harm.

"Ah, it's wonderful! You'll love it," her smile lines deepened. "Has something for everyone. Though most people go for the spas. That's what I'm after… maybe loosen these old joints, eh?"

Padmé smiled back, not sure what to add. Thankfully the old woman was more than willing to carry the conversation on her own.

"You're close," she glanced at Padmé's stomach. "It's good to schedule one last trip before it all changes, just the two of you. Dee'Ja Peak is perfect for that. Romantic, secluded, and plenty of markets and cafes!" she winked, shoulders shaking as she laughed.

Catching her meaning, Padmé laughed as well, though not as heartily. On her other side, Anakin stared straight ahead without moving a muscle.

"Your husband… he seems worried," the stranger lowered her voice.

Even beneath her heavy makeup, Padmé's expression was easy to read.

"About the baby?"

Again, without hearing a word, the woman received her answer; she drew her lips into a thin, thoughtful line while studying Anakin.

"It's a rite of passage. All men go through it. Worrying about their family, about providing enough. It means they care," she said with the sagacity of many decades. "He wants to do right, and the best way to show you realize and appreciate that is to tell him he already is."

_If only it were that simple to ease his mind_, Padmé lamented. _For anyone else, her wisdom would be enough… but she could never guess our circumstances, which are hidden even more than our faces are. Oh, how I wish our troubles were nothing more than expectant parent jitters… _

Leaning back to stretch her neck, the old woman sighed with contentment at having dispensed a healthy dose of grandmotherly guidance. "You two will be fine. And Dee'Ja Peak will soothe like you never imagined. It'll do the trick. Just wait and see."

A single tear betrayed Padmé on the cheek not facing her traveling acquaintance. It was amazing how, despite not speaking, she felt her soul stripped and laid bare before the entire convoy of passengers, and all she got in return were those insatiable stares.

Just when Padmé closed her eyes to slip into isolated self-pity, however, Grandma issued her final declaration.

"Yes, I predict this trip will be a real turning point for the two of you."

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If first impressions counted for anything, Dee'Ja Peak was poised to exceed the old woman's promises. Even Padmé, accustomed to Theed's quaint infrastructure and the Lake Country's spellbinding vistas, found herself mute before a stunning blend of both here. From nearly every vantage point could be seen one of a dozen waterfalls, ranging from a few meters in width to nearly a hundred. Their soft spray and hushed plummeting struck quite the contrast with the Gallo Mountains' jagged slopes, most of which were spotted with grazing goats and other wildlife. They appeared as fleas upon the land, roaming the emerald, burgundy, and amber patches of earth that entwined into a patchwork quilt.

The resort had been so seamlessly built into the rock that it all but merged with it. Sand and rust-hued walls grew from and into every cliff and crevice, like a crown embedded in the mountain's side. The crown's jewels were numerous yet tasteful – sparkling fountains graced every other corner, intricately woven awnings fluttered above every shop and boutique, and veins of undulating copper and gold ran through the streets, inviting one and all to follow their trails.

How she'd spent most of her life on Naboo and never experienced this made Padmé feel foolish. As she strolled from one artful point to another with Anakin blocking the sun half a step ahead, chagrin hit her as she realized she might have never visited Dee'Ja Peak otherwise. Had the war, their marriage, their future gone according to plan, this treasure would never have passed before her eyes.

Yet it was hard to stay vexed when surrounded by such gorgeous scenery. With no further resistance, she allowed the town's magic to envelop her like the clouds ringing the high peaks. She continued on, floating toward their destination despite both feet touching the ground. If she could only freeze this moment, capture its essence and tuck it in her pocket, then pull it out whenever she needed it.

Optimism told her she wouldn't need it. But she wasn't a gambling person. And she knew, for better or for worse, the old woman's premonition about this being a turning point would prove true. Whether Anakin held the same belief – or if he'd even heard the woman through his self-absorption that morning – Padmé didn't know.

But she'd soon find out. When at last they reached their hidden cottage on the mountain's tree-lined slopes, her heart stuttered. Behind its weathered brick walls was coiled the moment of truth. The nonstop commotion of the past week would end the moment they crossed the threshold. Those four walls, while providing respite and privacy, were also a cauldron in which anything could simmer.

Sweet wildflower blossoms drifted their scent on the mountain breeze as the company stopped.

"This is the place," CT-53 announced. "Not half as nice as the places in town, but that's the price you pay for safe seclusion."

Anakin frowned, clearly unimpressed with the structure. "Does it even have running water?"

"Yes, sir. Once you engage the well pump, that is."

A rusted spigot could be seen peeking out of a nearby hedge; the latter was in dire need of trimming. Anakin twisted his face in repugnance.

"If there were a better location with equal privacy, we'd have chosen it, sir," the sergeant defended.

"It's fine," Padmé spoke up. "It may be a little more rustic than we're used to, but it will be just fine. We'll get by."

Still glowering, Anakin pulverized a toadstool on his way to inspect the cottage more closely. There were several cracks in the foundation, the shutters flaked and peeled like reptilian skin, and the roof looked doubtful against a strong windstorm. That the window panes were still intact was rather miraculous.

"Isn't this entire resort supposed to be five stars? Not a sub-par suite to be found?"

"This technically isn't part of the resort. It sits just outside village lines," CT-53 replied. "Used to be a sheep herder's place, I'm told."

Anakin huffed. "That I believe."

Tired of hearing complaints, CT-53 led his troop to carry the luggage inside. Other than a few assorted cobwebs, it was hospitable enough. Adequate sunlight poured in through the south-facing windows and the floors were level. Considering its age and neglect, the old place had held up well, with only a few corners in need of serious cleaning.

"Well milady, here you are," the sergeant placed her bags in the small bedroom. "If you require any assistance day or night, just say the word. My men will run errands into town when you need supplies."

Padmé nodded her thanks and sat on the edge of the bed. Only by catching a brief glimpse of herself in the mirror did she realize she was still in full disguise, head tails and all. She laughed at the sight – a sound which drew Anakin in from an adjoining room.

"What's so funny?" he stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "This derelict hole in the ground, or the thought of actually _living_ in it for any amount of time?"

Padmé's smile faded. "It's really not that bad, Anakin. Haven't you ever been camping?"

"Occasionally. We had 'wilderness retreats' every few years, but that was different. The conditions matched the context. _This_… this is just insulting!" he kicked a clod of dirt angrily.

Not five minutes spent in the house, and already the cauldron was boiling. Padmé had hoped, perhaps naively, that the tension might not peak so soon.

"I was laughing at myself," she returned to his original question. "I'm not used to seeing Aayla Secura when I look in the mirror."

Reminded of his own disguise, Anakin reached up to peel both head tails from his scalp, flipping them in his hands as he shook his green head. "Another insult. How many ways can they humiliate us? A Jedi hero and a senator… reduced to cheap costumes and a mud hut."

"Ani, what's more important, being treated like royalty or being safe?"

He flung the tails onto the bed. "That's just it, we shouldn't have to choose! I – you – of all people shouldn't be in this position, Padmé. For all we've done for the Republic, we deserve far better options!"

"Well, like it or not, this is what we've been given. It might feel less awful if we choose to be positive."

"Delude yourself all you want, but I'm done believing in things that are too good to be true," Anakin cursed. "I should have known that's what this has all been."

His tone hinted at something more. "We both knew the odds of having our marriage exposed, so unless you're referring to something else, I wouldn't call it 'too good to be true.' If anything, we defied the odds longer than expected."

Anakin's mouth tightened. Whatever he was holding inside, he obviously meant to keep it there.

"You _were_ referring to something else!" Padmé perceived. "What is it you're not telling me?"

Casting a reproving look at her, he brusquely turned toward the window. "Padmé, things are… more complex than you realize. I'm not sure you'd understand."

Surely she hadn't heard him right. "You doubt my ability to handle complexity? I've juggled war and politics, hiding a twin pregnancy, all while wondering if I'll end up a senate outcast _and_ a single parent! Whatever you have to say, I guarantee I can handle it."

Her point was well made, yet still Anakin ground his teeth.

"Fine. You'll have to talk at some point. We can only go so long without speaking before one of us goes insane. Unless you have alternate forms of entertainment planned?"

In true ironic timing, they heard a knock at the front door; upon opening it, they found CT-53 holding a black rectangular device.

"Sorry, I forgot to unpack the holonet station earlier," he presented it to them. "The battery's solar-charged, so leave it outside every other morning to juice up."

Padmé didn't need Jedi intuition to sense Anakin's silent triumph. The quandary of how to occupy themselves without speaking had just been solved.

"Thanks," Anakin reached for the box at the same time Padmé did. Yet just before her hands made contact with it, they dropped suddenly, clutching her belly as she wheezed in surprise. Both Anakin and CT-53 stared in pale horror, paralyzed on the spot.

"Are… are you…" Anakin gulped, unable to finish the sentence.

She regained her breath after a moment. "It's okay, it was only a practice contraction," she settled their fears. "It's over now."

Anakin looked to be recovering from a heart attack. "Oh… I didn't know those… could happen. Why didn't you tell me about them?" his voice rose from belated anxiety.

"This was the first one I've had. There really hasn't been a time when it just 'came up' in conversation," she mildly reproved before muttering, "There hasn't been time for anything _else_ to, either."

He was too shaken to absorb the comment. "What if you'd gone into labor right here on this filthy stoop? This is the last place –"

"Sir, now might be the time to mention that my squad has been trained in emergency medical techniques – including labor and delivery," he added somewhat uncomfortably. "In the event that the senator is delayed from reaching a medical facility, we're prepared to step in."

Without a moment's hesitation, Anakin snatched the holonet box from the sergeant, the awkward tension exceeding his limits. "Thank you sergeant," he swept back inside with Padmé close behind.

"Tell me again why we didn't bring Dormé along," he demanded, placing the box on a nearby table.

"You know why. Someone needs to keep the apartment secure," Padmé replied coolly. "I can only imagine what we'd return to if she and C3PO hadn't stayed behind."

"Well right now, I'd burn that apartment to have a female midwife here," he snapped some wires together, trying vainly to erase the mental image of a trooper performing those duties.

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_Random comic relief tacked onto the end of that scene... why let C3PO have that all to himself?_


	25. Chapter 24

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**C****hapter 24**

"I'm sorry the accommodations aren't what you hoped. We'll try to reserve something better the next time you go into scandal-driven exile."

Obi-Wan's dry sense of humor was the last thing Anakin wanted that evening. But, true to their nightly communication schedule, they'd made contact on secure comlinks, and he was at the elder Jedi's mercy for at least five minutes. Padmé, napping before dinner, got to avoid the exchange.

"Also sorry to see your sense of humor didn't survive the trip," Obi-Wan smirked. "I hope Padmé is in better spirits. Is she at least comfortable?"

Anakin shrugged. "She hasn't complained."

"That's good," he hesitated. "The clones… did they tell you about their..."

"_Emergency medical techniques?_" Anakin finished, huffing. "Yes, they told us. Gave me nightmares last night."

"It's a viable safeguard, Anakin. Would you rather have no backup whatsoever?"

"I'd _rather_ have a definite timeline of when we'll be out of here! Then I'd know whether our children are likely to be born Naboo or Coruscant citizens!"

"Padmé's due date isn't for several more weeks, correct?"

"Technically yes, but she says twins come early, sometimes a full month," anxiety chipped at his words. "Just last night, she had a 'practice' contraction. That can't be a good sign."

This was clearly news to Obi-Wan, who blinked in surprise. "Oh. My knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth is less thorough than I thought it was," he frowned slightly. "That _is_ pertinent information… I thought we'd have more time…"

"So what will it be? One week here? Two?" Anakin demanded.

"I… I wish I could say, honestly I do. But it's not my decision to make, and not one to decide in haste. It all depends on the media's pulse," Obi-Wan kept his voice level. "I understand your concerns and I don't mean to belittle them, but the worst case scenario is using a local clinic. If that happens, I'm sure the Chancellor will send security reinforcements."

"It's not clinic security that worries me. It's being released to come home to this decrepit shack!"

Obi-Wan cringed at the tension and fear evident in Anakin's voice. "There's no need to shout. If you're concerned about not having enough baby items, I can easily ship you some."

That, at least, curbed some of Anakin's worry, yet a trace remained. By the time he finished giving Obi-Wan a list of supplies, he'd reverted to the same flatness as last night.

"I'll get right on this," Obi-Wan assured. "Er, one last thing – I'll be out of contact the next few days. I'll leave a spare comlink with Yoda and Mace. Continue to check in as usual with them."

"Where are you going?"

"It's a confidential mission," Obi-Wan hedged. "I'm afraid I can't discuss it. Nothing to be concerned about… I'll be back before you know it. And I'll pass along what you told me to Yoda and Mace. They may not decide anything until I return, but at least they'll have time to think it over."

Realizing this was the best – and only – available option, Anakin nodded. "Good luck then. I'll see you later."

No sooner had Obi-Wan switched off the comlink when he sensed a presence behind him. Pausing before turning around, he identified the signature. There was only one being who matched it.

"Chancellor, good evening," he faced him with a disarming smile. "What brings you to the Temple tonight?"

Not missing a beat, Palpatine returned the smile. "Just happened to be in the area after the grand convention finale. Did you watch the aerial display an hour ago?"

"Sadly, no. I haven't time for many diversions these days," Obi-Wan replied honestly. "I was doing the work of ten men _before_ this week, and _now_… well, you can imagine!"

"Indeed," Palpatine's smile softened with empathy. "So I'll keep this brief. I simply wanted to check on Anakin and Padmé's status. Are they both well?"

"For the most part. Anakin fears they're underprepared for Padmé to give birth there."

"Can I be of assistance? Do they need anything?"

Out of habit, Obi-Wan was about to decline the Chancellor's offer, but he paused halfway through a tired breath. Having someone fulfill this errand _was_ tempting, especially when he was running short on time to pack & prepare for Tatooine.

"Actually yes, I was about to send some supplies – diapers, blankets, compact bassinets. If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all!" Palpatine assured, placing a hand on his heart. "It would give me no greater joy! Just give me the list and I'll have everything packaged by noon tomorrow."

"Wonderful. Forward the goods to the intergalactic processing center in the Brak Sector. I'll tell CT-53 to collect the shipment there," Obi-Wan explained as he transferred the list to Palapatine's datapad. "And thank you. This saves me considerable time before leaving."

"Off again already? Why, you hardly take a breath of Coruscant air before flying to another adventure!" Palpatine exclaimed. "The grand life of a Jedi."

"Oh, it's nothing if not grand," Obi-Wan pressed his lips, bowing before the two parted ways – he to his private quarters to pack, while the elder gentleman slunk down the halls with the same chilling smile he was wont to indulge in when alone.

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The Corellian Run was starting to feel like a second home to Obi-Wan, and not one to which he relished returning. All he could think of was how much time and fuel could have been spared if Yoda had communicated the Tatooine plans during his voyage to Naboo. 3,000 parsecs, that's all it would have been. But grumbling about it wouldn't alter space or physics. He had to do what had to be done, and not much else could be said.

At least the better part of the trip could proceed on autopilot. Locking the engines into a steady pace, he sought refuge in the austere confines of the passenger cabin, slate gray walls and all. Not cozy or comforting by any means, but quiet, solitary, and exactly what he needed to let his mind and body finally recover.

Sleep came the instant his head made contact with the slim foam pillow. At first it was blissful blackness, a depthless void into which he could jettison all the aches of the past week. Inky velvet folds beckoned him to release all his anger, tension, and pain into their furrows, promising to never haunt him again. His soul sighed mournfully, achingly. Relief was his at last.

Then the blackness seemed to shimmer, cloaking an undefined shape behind its veil. Slowly the perfect sphere of a planet revealed itself. Light tan and arid from pole to pole – Tatooine. Was he there already? Had time passed so quickly?

Without ship or engine, he drew closer to the desert world, eventually landing on the surface with a soft thud. Plumes of sand swirled up gently, scattering into a twilit sky above twin setting suns. On the far horizon could be seen an approaching sandstorm; its thick walls were hurtling forward at a startling rate.

The only shelter visible for miles was a tattered dome-tent several hundred meters off. Even at this distance from the storm, its flaps fluttered wildly in the breeze. Obi-Wan preferred to hedge his bets with something sturdier, but there didn't appear to be any alternatives. It was either that or certain death out in the open.

He reached the hut faster than expected, despite his boots treading sand. Wind howled in his ears as he ducked under the front flap. Inside was nearly pitch black – not a sliver of sunset rays leaked between the seams. The only sound was that of his own ragged breathing. The distant whirl of the sandstorm vanished the moment he slipped inside.

But he was not alone. Not five feet from him, something shifted in the darkness.

It coughed. He'd never heard a cough so parched in all his life. It sounded as though the throat would split apart.

Fumbling for the flashlight he remembered slipping into his pocket, Obi-Wan hastily clicked the device on. Its beam was dim, worthless at first, but after shaking it several times, it illuminated what needed to be seen.

It was a woman clothed in rags filthier than the ground itself. Debris-strewn hair hung over her face, which she hid from him in shame and terror. Both her wrists dangled from twine knots that dug mercilessly into her skin.

Yet even in this harsh, unrecognizable state, Obi-Wan knew who his cellmate was. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.

"Shmi?" he said weakly, afraid to startle her. "Shmi Skywalker?"

Her neck quivered at the familiar voice. With painstaking effort, she tilted her face toward him, hair still slanted across her eyes. On impulse, he crawled over to brush her vision free. The moment they made eye contact was overwhelming.

"It _is_ you!" Obi-Wan gasped, fighting to untie the knots. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

She wanted to answer, but Obi-Wan could see breathing was excruciating for her. While her eyes searched his wildly, her cracked lips moved without sound. But it didn't matter; he needed no explanation to free her now. To bring her back to Anakin, who would surely be overcome…

The knots defied his every attempt. Each time he pried one loop loose, another formed behind it. The twine seemed to thicken as time elapsed.

"Just hold on, I'll get you out of here," he increased his fervor.

"Not likely."

Obi-Wan pivoted to find Count Dooku lurking just beyond the flashlight's pool of light, his visage more angular and severe than ever.

"Count Dooku… you're dead!" he asserted, reclaiming a thin slice of reality.

"So is she. But you're scrambling to save her nonetheless," the dark lord retorted. "A pitiful waste of your time, I'm afraid. Why you even bother trying is beyond me."

"Mock me if you will, it won't stop me," snorting, Obi-Wan turned back to Shmi. The knots had multiplied since he last looked, but he was undeterred.

"Allow me to assist you, then."

Faster than Obi-Wan could blink, a red blade sliced the twine to shreds while avoiding his hands. And faster than he could process the Count's act of redemption, the same blade finished its arc by impaling the prisoner straight through her heart. Her body crumpled to the floor in numbingly silent tragedy.

No sooner did her spirit release when Obi-Wan felt the red blade's handle in his own palm. Dooku had vanished along with Shmi's soul, and in his place materialized… Anakin. Anakin, staring at his kneeling master with more horrified outrage than had ever contorted his face.

"How could you?" he screamed, drawing his own lightsaber in fury. "What have you done! Why would you do this to me?"

Obi-Wan stuttered. "Anakin, no… I didn't… it's not what it looks like…"

The rest of his explanation was literally cut short when Anakin's ice-hot blade met his throat.

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	26. Chapter 25

_It was only a dream... filled with some deep allegory. The riddle should solve it itself over the next few chapters. _

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**Chapter 25**

Obi-Wan's nightmare had shattered when he bolted upright, heart pounding as the fresh images continued to parade across his mind's eye. They exuded nothing but fear, danger, and hatred. The mute desperation on Shmi's pale face… Count Dooku's wrathful presence and actions… the vile judgment Anakin brought upon him in that tent… it left him reeling.

Once the systemic shock faded, however, the challenge went from psychological recovery to analysis. What in the name of the Force could it all mean? This was certainly not a typical dream pattern. He'd envision the occasional lightsaber duel or perilous rescue, but never did he feel such raw emotions of evil. The contrast struck his heart as sharply as Dooku's blade had struck Shmi's.

In the gray confines of steel walls, he faced the steadily mounting evidence that Yoda was right. If merely approaching Tatooine had triggered these poignant visions, there must be something to gain from this mission after all. No longer would he view it with mild skepticism.

Doing his best to ease into sleep again, he eventually drifted away and awoke hours later from an uneventful slumber. He made his way back to the bridge, where sensors showed he was ten minutes from Tatooine. _Time flies when you're dreaming of death and Sith Lords_, he thought cynically, resuming the pilot chair.

Mos Eisley's ugly urban sprawl appeared below. Obi-Wan could see it had retained every ounce of charm since his first – and only – visit thirteen years ago. The same smog lay over it like filthy gauze, thickened and churned by the two suns' brutal heat. Outlaws and bounty hunters still slithered down alleys, peering at each hooded figure with acute paranoia and one hand ever on the trigger beneath their cloak. Nothing had changed, and nothing ever would.

_Wretched hive_, Obi-Wan sneered while engaging the landing gear. Some loitering Rodians scurried out of the way when the ship's shadow fell across them. From under the hangar eaves, they watched the vehicle descend with cool disinterest. The bay attendant on shift looked equally indifferent as he approached the ship.

"Good afternoon," Obi-Wan exited the cockpit. "I'd like to dock this here for a week, maybe less."

The attendant, some dark-skinned reptilian species, nodded without looking up from his datapad. "Contents?"

"Just standard traveling fare. Food, emergency shelter gear, that sort of thing. You're welcome to search it if you want."

A cursory glance at Obi-Wan's garb led the attendant to shrug. "No need. Though what business a Jedi could have here, much less benefit from, I can't begin to guess."

"An outstanding ambassador for Tatooine tourism," Obi-Wan quipped, tossing him a few druggats along with a half coin as a tip. "Know where I can rent a decent speeder?"

The other shrugged again. "It's Mos Eisley. 'Decent' doesn't really describe anything here."

Smiling with a wink, Obi-Wan thanked him and headed down the alley toward bustling streets. He'd find what he needed soon enough.

And based on the covert, conniving glances exchanged among the Rodian scoundrels in the hangar, he wasn't the only one sniffing around for something.

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Dusk changed the desert planet dramatically, Obi-Wan acknowledged as he sped across every landscape from rolling dunes to massive rock pillars. There was a certain beauty to these shapes when they weren't bleached by scorching suns. If only twilight could bless this dustbowl permanently, Obi-Wan mused, it might attract a more savory swath of travelers. But sadly, Tatooine's charming angles hid within a slim hour each morning and night.

For a time, he let himself be lost in the rich scenery and stunning formations he passed. These were the same vistas Anakin flew through on his way to confront the Sand People three years ago. It seemed fitting somehow. The pillars and spires were beautiful, yes, but they were also fearsome remnants of a past violence, a geologic event powerful enough to melt and reshape rock. An eruption similar in magnitude to that inside Anakin's soul that night.

The Tuscan Raider camp wasn't far now, he could feel it. His senses expanded with each passing meter. Yes, he was undoubtedly retracing Anakin's deadly path. Tremors of rage and feral vengeance wove through this canyon still. Neither time nor dust storms had washed away those stains.

What he hoped to find on this dark pilgrimage, Obi-Wan couldn't define. He only knew the site of Shmi's death was the first logical place to investigate it. All other Force lines were tethered to this spot. He'd have to relinquish his conscious mind more than ever, drawing upon the sum total of his training and experience.

Squinting, he spotted the outline of a sheer cliff edge up ahead and slowed the speeder. The deep crimson shadow it cast over the desert floor was as rich as blood. It sent an unbidden shiver through him.

Barren and scarred, the land beneath the cliff looked like any other patch of Tatooine's crust. Yet Obi-Wan knew better. Every speck of sand and desiccated bone fragment in that plain told a story – one he was about to exhume, phantoms and all.

He scanned the horizon for even the smallest sign of an impending sandstorm. Having any part of his nightmare come true was out of the question. Seeing nothing but clear, calm skies over the jagged wasteland, he throttled the speeder over the cliff edge and dropped to the valley below.

It didn't take long for the wall of pain to hit. Even expecting it, he felt the wind knocked out of him, and his grip on the speeder handles faltered. If there'd been any doubt whether this was the right valley, there wasn't anymore. The rage, the violence, the blinding terror… it invaded his senses to new and delirious heights. He could hear every scream and feel every cauterized wound. It was everything and yet nothing as he imagined.

He allowed the tendrils of the past to course through him like circuits, stooping to pass a fistful of sand between his knuckles. It trickled away like the rapidly fading daylight. Whatever he was to find here, he'd better find it soon.

Just what did he hope to find, anyway? Even if he came across a scrap of tent fabric or broken hunting staff, what could it tell him? He could learn nothing beyond what he already did. This place was ground zero and all the real clues – the intangible ones – had been hurled out in every direction. All he had to do was choose the right direction from 360 degrees of panoramic desert.

Closing his eyes, the answer came to him. The moisture farm. The Lars family. Anakin's family. The only people in the galaxy to whom Anakin was connected, aside from Padmé and Obi-Wan himself.

Of course. He'd gone directly there after… after the event. He'd buried Shmi not far from the homestead, with Cliegg and Owen looking on mournfully. At least, that's the story Obi-Wan had wrung from him weeks after Geonosis. The boy had been so inconsolably depressed that Obi-Wan felt an intervention necessary. Had he not threatened to punish Anakin over his continued silence, he may have never heard the full story.

One last parting view of the arid valley and he mounted the speeder again. He'd never personally met Cliegg or Owen. Tonight, that would change.

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Warm, healing tea percolated through Obi-Wan's weary frame as he sat within the humble dwelling's candlelight. So comforting yet strange, being in that adobe igloo was. It was quite cozy for its austere façade. He'd been surprised by the warmth and charm that soothed his aching soul.

Finding Cliegg deceased with his son and daughter-in-law managing the farm had been even more surprising. But time passed, even here. The galaxy at large might forget about Tatooine, but time did not. If anything, it consumed at twice the usual rate.

Beru returned from the kitchen with a tray of jam and crumb cakes. For her to serve a delicacy such as jam showed how highly she regarded their guest. Obi-Wan caught Owen's eyes bulging slightly when he saw the jar.

"You must be famished. All the space-hopping you've done this week… it exhausts me just thinking about it!" she set the tray down and seated herself across from him.

"It's all but forgotten now, thanks to your hospitality," Obi-Wan replied, and he meant it.

"We're happy to help, especially a Jedi… and one who knows Anakin, no less."

Anakin's name caused a brief flicker of discontent across Obi-Wan's face, but neither of his hosts noticed. "Yes, well, he's the reason I'm here, actually. And why I've done so much 'space-hopping' lately."

Owen and Beru looked at him with equally innocent expressions. Clearly, the Galactic Register's circulation didn't extend this far into the Outer Rim.

"You've heard nothing about him?"

The two frowned and shrugged, shaking their heads.

"Then this will be even more fun than anticipated," Obi-Wan said wanly. "Your brother has been in the news a lot lately. Which isn't out of the ordinary… he's always been a media favorite during the war. But this time, he's in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons." He took another sip of tea. "Long story short, you two will be an aunt and uncle in a month or so."

They stared blankly for a moment before the meaning of his words became clear. Then both their eyes widened, with Beru looking particularly excited.

"Oh! That's wonderful!" she blinked in surprise. "I didn't know… we haven't seen or heard from him since…"

Obi-Wan nodded, not needing a reminder. "It's been a while. And in that time, Anakiin married against Jedi code."

"Who was it?" Just as Obi-Wan was about to answer, Beru's eyes widened again and she gasped. "The girl who was here with him? The one with the long dark hair?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"I forget her name," she frowned.

"Senator Padmé Amidala. One of the most prominent and influential politicians in the galaxy. So you can see how this caused a bit of an incident."

Owen spoke up. "Didn't Anakin realize this would happen? If he was looking to keep it a secret, he went about it all wrong."

Obi-Wan allowed himself a wry smile. "You'll get no argument from me."

"Where is he now? And his wife?"

"On sabbatical," the Jedi said slyly, taking a bite of cake. "Only I and two other Jedi know their exact location. When the media storm blows over, we'll look at bringing them back to Coruscant."

The couple nodded, still coming to terms with the news. Removed as they were from the galaxy's core, they couldn't grasp the full impact of Anakin's actions, but Obi-Wan's downcast eyes gave them some clue. It was hard to embrace what should have been good news when the context was so muddled.

"That can't be all you came here to tell us," Owen remarked.

_Perceptive for a moisture farmer_, Obi-Wan thought, finishing his cake. He brushed the crumbs from his fingers and beard. "No, it's not. And since it's late, I'll get right to the point. I've come to investigate Shmi Skywalker's capture and death."

His bluntness caught them off-guard. Beru blinked at the roughly hewn tabletop while Owen squeezed and released his fists. Revisiting the subject was obviously the last thing either wanted to do.

"What's there to investigate?" the memory made the latter scowl. "She's gone. Been gone for three years. The Neanderthals who did it are gone, too. Haven't seen them around here since."

"I know it seems pointless to dredge up the past. But…" Obi-Wan sighed, sharing their pessimism somewhat, "the Jedi Council believes there may be a chance, however small, to unearth some answers now. I don't fully understand how or why."

"Well, I hate to kill your hopes, but there's nothing to tell that we haven't already. My father explained it all – the raiders took her for no reason, she spent a month in their filthy camp, and you know the rest."

Obi-Wan nodded vaguely, leaning back. "What I _don't_ know is why the Sand People chose to capture her."

Owen snorted. "They're savages! Their attacks are always random and senseless. Trying to understand those monsters is like trying to find a work of art in Bantha droppings."

"Perhaps. But tell me this – were there any other abductions during the raids that season?"

That brought Owen's temper down just enough to make him pause. "None that I know of," he said, still scowling.

Beru caught Obi-Wan's eye in a split second.

"Then my visit may not prove to be so pointless after all," Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow and finished the rest of his tea.

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	27. Chapter 26

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**Chapter 26**

The following morning, Obi-Wan granted himself the luxury of sleeping well past the binary sunrise. Neither of his hosts was cruel enough to wake him before noon, which was when he shuffled into the dome-ceilinged kitchen, eyes sparkling with renewed life. Recharged from rest and Beru's hearty cooking, he thanked her for the hundredth time for receiving him so graciously the night before, and flipped his hood up on the way out the door.

There were five neighboring farms that had suffered the Tuscans' raid three years ago, he'd been told. Though he was getting a relatively late start in the day, he should have no problem reaching them all before dusk. Nor should it be difficult gaining useful information from so many sources.

The first homestead wasn't quite what he expected, though. Owen failed to mention that not all the surrounding farmers were human. Obi-Wan had no way of communicating with the Jawas he encountered there, though he was very curious what led them to defy their usual nomadic lifestyle for humble farming.

His second destination wasn't any more helpful. Its tenants spoke Galactic Basic, but he learned they were away on vacation at the time of the raids. They'd returned home to find their evaporators stripped, their storing tanks bone dry, and most of their personal belongings ransacked, but they'd witnessed nothing first-hand. Nothing to give him further insight into Shmi's seemingly random kidnapping.

Obi-Wan's hopes remained high as he pulled up to the third dome dwelling, but upon learning _this_ family was currently away on vacation as well, he felt a twinge of bitter frustration at the base of his neck.

"How can _moisture farmers_ afford so many luxury trips?" he mumbled to himself, leaving a cloud of dust as he sped toward the next stop. "Ridiculous. Their means _have_ to be more modest than that." _Then again… if I lived here, I'd probably scrape together every spare penny I had for a change of scenery once a year. _He stared at the astonishingly barren landscape. _Now I understand why Anakin was so eager to leave. I am too, and I haven't been here a full day, much less seven years._

Fourth and fifth on his list was a pair of farms abutting each other; their primary residences sat just a few hundred meters apart. If he was going to strike out, at least he'd know relatively soon.

A sagging clothesline flopped and fluttered in the mid-afternoon breeze next to one of the huts. Hidden behind one of the broader sheets of laundry was a woman, apron tied around her pregnant stomach as she finished hanging the last of her basket. She spotted Obi-Wan the same instant he spotted her.

"Good day," he greeted, walking slowly and non-threateningly. "I don't mean to startle you, I'm a Jedi master and I have a few questions if that's all right."

The woman's body language was mildly distrustful, but she didn't seem completely hostile. "A Jedi master?" she set the final clothespin in place. "And you have questions for _me?_ Is this some sort of trick?"

"On my honor, it isn't," Obi-Wan held up both hands.

"All right," she looked over her shoulder. "But only if my husband's here. Artran!"

Her call summoned forth an unkempt but not unhandsome man of just over thirty, who was wiping his hands on a thin towel as he crossed over to them. Awe and wonder filled his eyes upon recognizing the stranger's distinctive style of dress.

"Resa is down for her nap. I just finished her bath," he quietly informed his wife. "Who is this?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi master," the man in question answered, bowing. "As I was telling your lovely wife, I have a few questions for you. It may not seem like Jedi business, but I'm interested in the Tuscan Raider siege that befell this region three years ago."

Artran frowned in recognition, Obi-Wan's first positive sign all day. "What do you want to know?"

"Your whole experience. What you witnessed, how you withstood the attacks, what lasting impact it had on you and your neighbors."

"Oh, that's all?" Artran cocked a dry smile. "I've tried to block it from my memory, but I'll try to remember. Lytri was home with Resa, who was just a week old, when the Raiders first attacked. They hid in the bomb cellar for a couple hours until I returned from town. Our damage wasn't half as bad as our neighbors'," he threw a glance across the way, where a shabbily-clad six-year-old stood watching them with curious yet frightened eyes.

"We were lucky," Lytri concurred. "Only one of our evaporators was ruined. The pantry was nearly stripped bare, but it could have been much worse. And from what we've heard, it was for the other farmers."

"Like that one family… the Lars? We really can't complain, given what they went through."

"What happened to them?" Obi-Wan feigned ignorance, not wanting to create false memories through suggestion.

"The wife, she went out collecting fungi like any other day… and they snatched her on the way home," sympathy and fear mixed in Lytri's voice.

"And the husband spent a full month searching for her. He lost a leg and a lot more besides," Artran hung his head. "It's just awful. And to think, it could have been any one of us."

"There was no one else, then? No other locals went missing?"

The couple silently conferred with each other. "No. Same number of people everywhere else," Lytri replied, then brushed her stomach with a smile. "Well, except for some new members here and there."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan smiled in return, seeing Artran affectionately rub one of Lytri's shoulders. Then, in a bizarre twist of vision, it was Anakin and Padmé standing before him. Instead of Artran, it was the man who slaughtered an entire settlement who was caressing his pregnant wife.

Obi-Wan stood anew in awe of Anakin's inner conflict – how he was capable of mass murder one year and tender, fruitful love-making the next. At least, Obi-Wan assumed it was tender. Padmé bore no visible evidence otherwise. And he hardly knew her to be one to tolerate abuse of any kind. What did she make, then, of the rampage committed by the father of her unborn children? If it plagued Obi-Wan's conscience, how could _she_ reconcile it all?

"Have you heard of anyone else being abducted in the past?" he refocused on his mission.

"Can't say that we have," Artran shrugged. "There have been plenty of raids, but the Lars woman was their first prisoner as far as I know. Pretty strange… usually they're only after food and parts to sell on the underground market."

Obi-Wan blinked. "They _sell_ things?"

"Sure. What do you think the raids are for?"

"I don't know… I just assumed it was for intimidation, or to satisfy some primal instinct," Obi-Wan confessed. "You're certain they do this?"

Lytri laughed. "You haven't spent much time in Mos Eisley, have you?"

"It's been quite a few years, and I've done some selective memory blocking of my own."

"Well, they're crawling all over, taking advantage of stranded pilots who need replacement parts. You'd have to be pretty desperate to make a deal with _them!_"

This changed things. A lot of things. If the Sand People sought profit, that opened this investigation to an entirely new host of motives.

Yoda was right – closure _would_ be found somewhere on this planet. Knowing now that Shmi's disappearance was unequivocally selective and deliberate, along with this new dimension of Tuscan Raider behavior, Obi-Wan's skepticism scattered like the sand stinging his cheek as he thanked the farmers and sped back toward Mos Eisley.

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The spaceport retained nearly all of the day's heat despite the cooling effect of both suns setting. The slight chill tickling Obi-Wan's knuckles dissipated as he passed deeper into the city, trying to scope its streets and alleys with a new lens. Each turn brought further disappointment – homely, masked raiders with push carts were nowhere to be seen. But then, neither were the usual suspects. Shop owners were collapsing umbrellas and awnings everywhere he looked.

Just a half hour earlier, and he might have gotten a lead. The day had been anything but unproductive, though. Learning what he had from Artran and Lytri was almost as good as having slept over twelve hours straight.

His people of interest would be there tomorrow, if what the farmers said was true. He'd felt no deception from them and couldn't imagine any reason for it. Still, the idea of misanthropic Raiders coming into town to sell their wares required a vivid imagination, if not a dry sense of humor. Maybe it'd seem less ludicrous after another solid night's sleep.

Not to mention a proper evening meal. Obi-Wan's stomach knotted angrily at the mere thought of traveling back to the Lars' to eat. Filthy and miserable as Mos Eisley was, it was his only hope at the moment. He swallowed his pride – and a small bit of bile – before entering the first diner he came across, trying to ignore the building's appearance as much as the stares he attracted. A dingy, tattered cloak – he _knew_ he'd forgotten to pack something. So much for blending in.

The food was no better or worse than could be expected; half an hour later, he picked at the last few remnants on a lukewarm plate, feeling full but not satisfied – and not just on a physical level. Maybe his underwhelming experience with the Bantha burger was to blame, or maybe the diner's dank atmosphere was setting in, but he suddenly felt foolish and hopeless. What did he think would happen tomorrow? He'd walk up to a Tuscan Raider and, what? Invite them to lunch, at which point he'd cordially ask what they knew about the raids three years ago? The whole scenario involved more absurdities than he could entertain.

When it came down to it, the farmers' information was a dead end, no different than if he'd learned nothing at all. What good was knowing Shmi Skywalker was targeted if there was no way of discovering why? Sand People may have socially evolved to the point of basic commerce, but it'd be several more generations before they progressed to civil communication.

Could this really be all? Surely this couldn't be the full extent of what Yoda hoped for this mission. To return with so little would only inflame Anakin's sense of injustice in his life. Obi-Wan could hear it now: _"They took her on purpose? And I'll never know why? Thanks for the closure, Obi-Wan!"_

Not that he'd blame Anakin for his sentiments. It'd just be better if he were never told. Which meant this entire trip was a waste. Yet Yoda had been so sure…

Obi-Wan's head began to ache from the mental conflict and a long day under the hot sun. He hadn't kept himself hydrated enough either. All he wanted to do now was fold his arms into a pillow on the tabletop and close his eyes for five, maybe ten minutes...

He got three before something struck the base of his skull and everything went black.

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_No idea if Sand People are even capable of commerce, underground or otherwise. It's rather funny to think about. It's also kind of integral to this story, so humor me._


	28. Chapter 27

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**Chapter 27**

Dinner was only marginally better around a rickety table on Naboo. The nook in which Padmé and Anakin sat was cool, shaded by several tall, robust trees that blocked the setting sun. And after their first forty-eight hours in official seclusion, the attitudes of each spouse were cooler still.

Not helping matters was the meal itself. Without Dormé or C3PO around, cooking duty hadn't been easily assigned. The two had fought for several minutes, with Anakin insisting that Padmé avoid standing at the stove, while she argued his culinary skills would have them going to bed hungry. In the end, they compromised and prepared it together. The end result was something that tasted as pleasant as their moods.

Padmé stabbed with her fork. "You'd think two people could throw something halfway palatable together."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "Next time, let's ask one of the clones if they're trained in 'emergency food preparation' too. It can't be any harder than midwifery."

"That, or you could take a remote cooking class one of these days. With all the time you spend on the Holonet, you may as well do something productive," Padmé slung back.

"Productive? It's impossible here!" he slammed his fork down, disgusted with the meal and conversation. Padmé winced when the back door pounded shut on his way out.

Even from his lookout point on the edge of the ravine, Anakin could hear her sobbing.

It was almost completely dark when he picked his way back toward the unlit house, feet dragging as he passed guards who were glad he couldn't see their troubled faces. Anakin wasn't the only one whose ears Padmé's misery had reached.

Both plates of unfinished food still sat on the table, ice cold and glaring at him. No sound emanated from any room. _She must have worn herself out_, he thought with a pang of remorse. Hopefully she was in the bedroom, exhausted but comfortable. He didn't ever want to find her on a sofa again.

Thankfully, the bedroom was where he found her, curled on the mattress with fists clenching the sheets. In the dim light, he could still see a pool of tears staining half her pillowcase.

He stood in the doorway for a long minute. Never had he found her half this distraught.

Though he hadn't made a sound, somehow she sensed his presence and stirred. When her weary eyes found his in the dark, the weight of the galaxy hung between them.

"I'm sorry."

Anakin's voice barely sounded like his own, but Padmé heard him nonetheless. She wiped residual moisture from her cheeks and slowly sat up.

"You realize we won't survive if we continue this way," she forced herself to speak.

He crossed hesitantly to sit beside her. "I know. It won't work. I thought it would, but we're both going crazy," he said with equal parts frustration and sadness. "I need you."

There were no tears left for Padmé to cry, but her face twisted in agonized relief as she reached for him. When she felt his strong, warm arms embrace her with total relinquishment, her soul sighed more deeply than it had in years.

"You can trust me with anything," she avowed. "I didn't flinch at the press conference, did I?"

"And I thank you for it. But that was nothing compared to what I'm about to tell you."

Spoken in that twilit room, Anakin's warning sounded like a death sentence. Padmé sat perfectly still.

"Being stranded here, with you weeks from delivery, is nerve-wracking enough," he eyed her stomach with renewed anxiety. "But in addition to that, I have the added joy of contemplating the demise of the entire galaxy."

"Anakin, the war isn't your sole responsibility," Padmé chided gently. "It may be hard to let go after being involved for so long, but the effort won't crumble without you."

"You don't understand. It's not the war I'm worried about… at least, not in so many words."

Confused, Padmé waited for him to continue.

"I... I've agonized over how to tell you this for days." Even in the shadows, Anakin's angst was clearly visible. "There's no easy way to say it: I have reason to suspect the Jedi are conspiring to overthrow the senate."

Padmé stopped breathing for a moment. "_What?_"

"I was just as shocked when I heard it. But the evidence is there, Padmé."

"You can't be serious!"

"Are you just going to deny it without hearing the facts?" irritation laced his voice.

"By all means, enlighten me!" she cried.

"I will!" he shot back. "It just so happens that the council is manipulating the war details. Downplaying some while exaggerating others."

"So? They have to juggle strategy and public perception. That's not an easy task."

"Nor is it a licit one, when their true motives are examined," Anakin replied.

"And what exactly are their _true_ motives?"

"To end the war at all costs. To earn unilateral public support by doing so. To thin the army ranks and minimize the risk of a coup when the Jedi assume power."

Padmé thought she was hallucinating. "What twisted train of thought led you to these assumptions?"

"I didn't invent them myself," Anakin raised his chin. "The Chancellor opened my eyes. He's seen a side of this war nobody else has. And with the Council's final aggressive push to expend every troop to find Grievous, he confided in me."

Padmé shook her head, wary. "This doesn't feel right, Anakin. You're letting one man ruin the stainless reputation and character of the Jedi? Just like that?"

"The Chancellor's not just any man, Padmé. As a senator, I'm surprised you don't respect his opinion more."

"And as a Jedi, I'm surprised you think your brethren are even capable of this!"

"I didn't choose for this to happen!" he said angrily. "But the facts speak for themselves. The Chancellor even predicted the council would try to distract me with something, which they did. They gave me orders to sniff out the elusive 'disturbance in the force' that's been plaguing us for years. Maybe the reason it's _eluded_ them is because they're the source!"

The room felt like it was spinning, and Padmé massaged her temples with her eyes shut. "Have you spoken to Obi-Wan about this?"

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin scoffed. "I barely had time to process this myself before he dragged me in front of the council, slapped a datapad in my hand and fed me to the media wolves! And now he's off on some secret mission! Since when does he keep secrets from me?"

With that, the bottom of Padmé's soul dropped out. Secrets… Obi-Wan…

Naturally, Anakin caught her sudden change of mood. Where he'd sensed hot incredulity was now trembling uncertainty.

"What's the matter?"

Her hands were frozen at her temples, her heart and mind plummeting deeper with each second. "I forgot to tell you something," she whispered, sounding frightened and ashamed. "With all that's happened this week, I forgot…"

"Is it…" his eyes went instantly to her pregnant belly.

"No, I'm fine," Padmé dismissed that fear. "But the day of your surgery, after Palpatine held a special senate session, he pulled me aside and told me… that he _knew_."

Anakin blinked, suspecting what she meant. "About us? The babies?"

"Yes and no. He knew I was pregnant, but not who the father was."

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, unsettled but relatively calm. "I suppose it was only a matter of time. He's nothing if not observant, and he does see you on a daily basis."

"That's just it – he didn't figure it out on his own," she averted her eyes before revealing the worst. "Obi-Wan told him."

For a minute, Anakin thought he'd gone blind. The tiny bedroom had just collapsed on the two of them without warning. _Total betrayal… and Padmé kept it from me for six days? _ It was enough to make him sick.

"Don't trifle with me," he warned. "If you misunderstood, or misinterpreted his words…"

"I wish I had! But there's no question, he said it was Obi-Wan. Palpatine said he'd been reluctant to tell me since he knew how much I trusted and respected him," Padmé shook her head sadly. "I cooperated with Obi-Wan's plan to send us away because it made sense, but honestly, my faith in him is shaken and I don't know if it can ever be fully restored."

Anakin was vainly attempting to draw long, steadying breaths; they only sounded more shallow and ragged as time ticked by.

"_Why?_"

"Palpatine guesses that Obi-Wan thought it prudent information to share with the head of the senate, since I'm a senator," Padmé replied quietly. "But that doesn't excuse him. He promised, Anakin! In front you, me, and two other senators!"

"I remember," his voice dropped. "That whole scene is burned into my memory forever."

Though he couldn't see it in the shadows, her cheeks grew faintly red. That clinic encounter, the awkward yet poignant revelation of her pregnancy, would be a permanent memory for her as well. But now was not the time for sentimental reflections.

"Why did you wait to tell me?"

Padmé's cheeks blushed even more, this time from guilt. "I didn't mean to hide it from you, truly I didn't. Life has been rather distracting lately, which doesn't help my already foggy mind. Women aren't always their sharpest during pregnancy," she said sheepishly. "And maybe, since I didn't really want to face it myself, the other distractions gave my brain the perfect excuse to bury it."

Sighing, Anakin found her eyes in the dark. "So how do you feel _now_ about one man ruining the stainless reputation of the Jedi?"

The tables had indeed turned, she had to admit. Her silence confessed as much.

Anakin leaned forward. "None of his actions are altruistic, don't you see? Agreeing with the council's assignment to give me a fool's mission, sending us here so I'm out of the picture when he goes on a 'secret mission' of his own, and breaking a promise like a twig underfoot! I'm sure he expected Palpatine to receive the news badly and expel you, not confide in you like he did. One influential senator out of the way then," he sneered.

"Oh Anakin…" Padmé inhaled her horror. "How could this happen? Thousands upon thousands of virtuous years of service, all thrown away for the sake of power?"

"It's atrocious. The only positive aspect is that you and I, and the most powerful man in the senate, are aware of what's happening," his brow darkened. "It sickens me to think if we'd remained ignorant."

"But if the high council is using the senate and troops like puppets, what good can three people do?"

"That's what I've been obsessing over lately."

All his distant, icy behavior was forgiven in that instant. How well would she have fared under the weight of the galaxy? Especially if that weight was precariously balanced on the shoulders of those she once thought of as family, but now had to regard as treacherous enemies. No wonder he'd withdrawn from her – the foundation of his very life was being threatened in a way nobody could have ever anticipated.

"There's nothing more we can do tonight," she stated. "We'll strategize tomorrow, after we've slept. Not that I expect to sleep all that peacefully tonight."

"Me either. But between the war and coming home to this, I've pretty much forgotten what truly peaceful sleep feels like. Blessing in disguise, I suppose."

Not knowing any better way to conclude their discussion, Padmé shifted over to lightly hug his shoulders and laid her cheek against one. "Thank you for finally telling me everything. It all sounds hopeless, but if we work together, there has to be a way. We can't allow evil to prevail."

He was about to reply when a knock interrupted them. Briefly returning Padmé's embrace, he rose to see the bell-shaped silhouette of a clone helmet standing behind the front door. As usual, it was CT-53 himself.

"Good evening sir. Sorry to bother you, but some of my men just returned from the Brak sector processing center. They picked up several packages addressed to you from Chancellor Palpatine."

Peering past the sergeant, Anakin spotted half a dozen large crates resting on the lawn at the soldiers' feet. His eyebrows rose considerably.

"We'd have waited until morning to deliver them, but given the Chancellor sent them, we thought it might be urgent," CT-53 explained. "Shall we bring them inside?"

"Uh, sure," Anakin stepped aside and watched dumbly as each box paraded past. _What in the world could all this be?_ The troops didn't linger to find out, but Padmé soon exited the bedroom to investigate.

"Did you know this was coming?" he asked.

"No," she frowned, unsnapping the crate closest to her.

Anakin started on another box. "They're all marked from the Chancellor's office. I wonder what..."

"Oh!" grinning, Padmé turned to him with an infant's gown suspended between her fingers.

"These look like bassinet pieces," Anakin dug through his box. "Are these really all full of baby supplies?"

"It looks that way!" she moved on to the next box, which was packed with plush toys and colorful books. "It'll take me hours to go through everything!"

"Hours to put these cribs together too," he squinted at the assembly instruction sheet.

Padmé folded the tiny pieces of clothing into piles on the table. "What a wonderful gift. All the things we wanted but didn't have a chance to get."

A strange smirk formed on Anakin's face. "Ironic, isn't it? Having everyone know about the twins has been a curse _and_ a blessing." He stuffed the instructions back in the box. "Good thing people know to give us duplicates of everything, or we'd be only half prepared."

For the second time that evening, a siren sounded in Padmé's mind. The first was when the memory of Obi-Wan's secret had been triggered. This time, it was another public dignitary who flashed before her, filling the room with his imagined presence.

"_Should you need anything, do not hesitate to let me know. I will do everything in my power to keep you and your children safe and healthy, my dear."_

Palpatine had spoken those words in that private room. He'd obviously spoken them with the intent to soothe and reassure. He'd spoken them with all the professional and fraternal compassion a man in his position could.

He'd also spoken them before the press conference, when the pluralistic nature of her pregnancy became public knowledge.

The pale yellow garment she was holding fell to the ground.

Perhaps identifying the true threat to the Republic wasn't as easy or straightforward as it seemed in the bedroom minutes ago.

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_"The Chancellor's not just any man, Padmé." I realized how deliciously ironic that was after I wrote it. Ha._


	29. Chapter 28

_Back to Obi-Wan's situation. Sorry if some of you are bored by alternating Anakin/Padme chapters with Obi-Wan's adventures, but it's all relevant to the plot. I'm aiming for artistic/literary integrity with no plot holes. I know "fluff" is popular, but too much of it bores ME. :P I'm also a woman who hates chocolate, so go figure._

_I forgot to mention I posted a new one-shot the other day, a random crossover featuring a dialogue between Anakin & Edward Cullen. Not as inanely funny as "Palpatine's Dentures," the humor is drier and more subdued. Check it out if you're bored._

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**Chapter 28**

Pain.

Before Obi-Wan attempted to open his eyes, he felt pain. It encased the back of his skull like a cap. It also coated the inside of his throat, which ached from lack of water. He must have been out for a while.

Just how long, he couldn't say. There were no windows through which to monitor the sun's angle. Not one portal or aperture to connect him to the outside world. Only seamless slate gray walls in every direction, surrounding piles of crates on a floor so dirty it might as well have been solid dirt.

A few feeble movements on his part led to the discovery that his hands were bound behind his back. A cough, rough as the floor itself, escaped his pitiful frame. It also drew the attention of a figure that emerged from the shadows, cobalt blue eyes gleaming.

"Awake at last," it hissed. "Comfortable too, I hope?"

Blinking dust from his eyes, Obi-Wan made to crane his neck to see his captor, but the pain was too excruciating. The Rodian laughed as the Jedi winced.

"You don't need to see me in order to discuss business. Yarwat! Krol!" he banged on a nearby door. Two other Rodians entered with blasters drawn at their sides.

"Heavy sleeper," grunted the one on the left.

"Fine by me. Gave me time to clean up some other loose ends downtown," the other wiped the barrel of his weapon with a flourish.

"And one more before we call it a day," said the first, taking a few casual steps toward his captive. He twirled Obi-Wan's lightsaber grip in one hand. "So how have you been? Staying busy? Keeping the galaxy on their toes?"

Obi-Wan swallowed as best he could, but his voice didn't sound like his own. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," he croaked.

"A sense of humor, even in this state! I admire your spirit. But it is getting late, and the three of us have had a long day, so let's skip the jokes if you don't mind."

Hopelessly confused, Obi-Wan coughed again. "Just tell me what you want."

"Funny, we were going to ask _you_ that," the middle one said.

"Another favor?" asked the third in a patronizing tone. "Is that what brings you to the neighborhood again?"

The first one squatted down to Obi-Wan's level. "We don't work for charity, you know. You've got to clear old debts before making new ones. Did you forget? Or maybe you thought _we_ did?"

All three laughed at this. Obi-Wan's confusion reached peak levels. Was he too dehydrated to grasp what was going on? Should he recognize this villainous trio? He hadn't been on this planet in thirteen years, and he and Qui-Gon had no encounters or dealings with any Rodians during their stay. Watto was the only local they had any business with, and he wasn't flapping around nearby.

"I swear I'm not joking… you have the wrong man!" he insisted more forcefully this time.

"Really?" the other chuckled and plucked at Obi-Wan's outer tunic. "We haven't seen anyone else dressed like this in three years. After what you did today, you expect us to believe it's pure coincidence?"

"What I _did?_"

"We know where you went. We have eyes everywhere." The villain stood up again. "Made a few calls when we saw you in the hangar yesterday. Couldn't believe our luck, being there just when you showed up. Guess the Force was with us more than you, huh?"

They'd followed him? To that sorry handful of moisture farms? What little coherent grasp he had on this discussion was rapidly fading.

"What I don't get it why you waited so long to check the results. Three years? Again, maybe you thought we'd forget after all this time," the leader shrugged. "Whatever. Now you know the deed was done just as requested. But you also know it was never paid for in full."

Somehow through the dust, grime, and haze of this cell, things were starting to congeal for Obi-Wan. _The deed was done just as requested_… given the context, that could only mean Shmi Skywalker's abduction. These scoundrels were involved, he realized with a jolt. They must have been middle men of some sort – mediators between the Sand People and whoever commissioned the act. And that person had evidently worn Jedi garments.

If he could work through his pain and discomfort, this could be the pivotal opportunity Obi-wan thought he'd never find.

"I'm done arguing," he conceded. "But I'm a little hazy on the details. What's the remaining balance?"

"54,000 druggats," stated Yarwat from the back of the room, where he'd lazily propped himself with one knee bent against the wall.

"And the first installment was wired from Coruscant Central Bank, correct?"

"No, the Prime Galactic Credit Union," snapped the leader. "What a sloppy operation your kind runs! No two of you seem to know what the other is doing. Then again, with only ten thousand down, I should've known you clowned around."

"Sorry. I'm relatively new, but it's starting to ring a bell," Obi-Wan affected. "I can transfer the remaining amount, plus interest. I just need the account numbers. I don't have them memorized, and until you boys found me, I didn't think I'd need them on this trip."

The leader huffed a smug laugh as he pulled out a grimy, scratched datapad and pressed a few buttons. "There," he shoved the screen under Obi-Wan's nose. "Got it?"

"Now can you help me sit up and hand me my comlink? I need to contact my superior to clear the funds."

The three brothers exchanged uneasy glances.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Do you want your money or not? I can't very well do it with my hands tied and my face pressed against the dirt. Besides, you have my only weapon." He was banking on their relative ignorance of Jedi abilities, given they hadn't encountered any in three years.

"All right, but you've got three pairs of multi-faceted eyes watching you," the leader warned, slitting the twine around Obi-Wan's wrists. The requested comlink landed in the dirt with an unceremonious thud.

"A little privacy?" Obi-Wan rubbed his hands and sat up stiffly. "Sensitive information, you know."

Yarwat fired a single red blast just inches from Obi-Wan's right foot, sending a plume of dust into the air. Obi-Wan didn't flinch.

"We'll be right outside that door," were the trio's parting words as they backed their way out, blasters aimed at his upper torso.

When the door clicked shut, Obi-Wan dialed Anakin's frequency at record speed. He had no other choice. Naboo was less than half the distance from Tatooine as Coruscant was. Revealing his location and purpose on Tatooine was the only way out of this trap – alive, anyway. The Brothers Green were in for a surprise, and it wouldn't be fat interest.

Static from the comlink crackled through the musty air as he prayed for Anakin to answer. Obi-Wan's pulse quickened and his neck grew warm as the seconds marched on. _Answer, damn it! You know it's me!_ He cursed his earlier secrecy, telling Anakin he'd be out of contact. But that was to prevent distractions, not leave himself totally adrift in a sea of mercenaries! Everything had gone horribly wrong and backfired. Adding insult to injury was the prospect of dying on the single most wretched planet in the Republic. It was just his luck.

As it always seemed to be in matters concerning Anakin. Who still hadn't answered his comlink.

He exhaled a long breath, trying to calm his nerves. Maybe one of the other generals was patrolling near this sector. Surely there were at least one or two within range of the Outer Rim. All he had to do was contact the Council and learn the current platoon placements.

"Done in there?" one of them kicked the door impatiently.

"Not yet," Obi-Wan called back. "Just two more minutes."

"You've got one!"

_Should've asked for five_, he thought wryly. No matter. Yoda or Mace would answer shortly, and once reinforcements were on the way, he could stall the Rodians to keep their money lust at bay for an hour or two.

Or maybe he could skip the posturing altogether…

It hadn't taken him long to recognize his holding cell was a sub room of a large warehouse. There was the industrial feel and construction, the distant sound of metal on metal and engines moving cargo, and lastly, random piles of boxes filling all four corners. Piles he'd only just gained the position of seeing clearly. Their labels were marked in at least a dozen languages, and as he absently scanned them from top to bottom, one caught his eye.

_Chlorioma Humate_, written in small, scrawling letters on a low-lying crate. That compound sounded familiar…

His synapses weren't too weary to recall the details. Senator Onaconda Farr, one of senator Amidala's ill-fated allies, had been poisoned with a Chlorioma substrate two years ago. Obi-Wan remembered it distinctly, not only from Padmé's distress when recounting the incident, but because of the unique circumstances surrounding Farr's death. The poison was Rodian-specific, a fact which led to incriminating Farr's Rodian aide, Lolo Purs.

And a chemical variant of that same poison was sitting mere meters away. With three hapless Rodians eager to step back into its vicinity.

Choosing this room for Obi-Wan's imprisonment indicated they knew nothing of the box's contents. That, or they assumed _he_ knew nothing of it either. A reasonable assumption, since knowledge of the Chlorioma compound was fairly rare. He might be one of four or five current visitors in all of Mos Eisley who knew its lethal properties.

The Rodians had played the odds, thinking them in their favor. But they weren't counting on their captive having extensive knowledge of Kaminoan biotechnology.

Upon closer inspection, the crate had little to no safety mechanisms to bypass. Nothing a few concentrated Force maneuvers couldn't solve, anyway. Inside was a solid steel canister with pressure gauges at the top – exactly what he'd hoped to find. Once the valves were busted, toxic gas would fill the room in under a minute.

He'd already forgotten about contacting the Council. No need to bother them anymore.

"Time's up!" Yarwat kicked in the door, blaster raised.

"So when will our accounts be fed?" the leader pressed.

"Soon, very soon," Obi-Wan smiled disarmingly. "The funds are being transferred as we speak. We'll have this all wrapped up in no time."

"Good. Because if it takes more than ten minutes, one of us won't be watching the suns rise tomorrow."

"And don't think we won't be ready if you called your _friends_ to pay a visit," Krol sneered. "No money, no one for them to rescue!"

Obi-Wan smiled again. "There'll be no rescue today, boys. Don't worry," he yawned. "But while we wait, maybe you could indulge my curiosity. As I said, I'm new to this operation, and I only know bits and pieces. Who was it that contacted you originally?"

"Never knew his name. Tall. Gray beard. Long nose he looked down on everyone from," the leader responded. "Thought he'd be trustworthy, being a Jedi. That was the first and last time we ever made _that_ mistake."

Obi-Wan's mind raced. Those physical attributes… could it really have been? But who else matched that description?

Only Count Dooku.

But that meant he'd requisitioned Shmi's kidnapping before ever having met Anakin. The two first laid eyes on each other on Geonosis – just before the Count disposed of Anakin's right arm. How and why, then, did he know to target Anakin's own mother? What could have possibly been his motivation?

The link might very well lie in the Prime Galactic Credit Union's records. For now, he'd seized all that was useful from this misfit trio, and it was time to orchestrate his exit.

Yawning, he massaged the side of his neck and grimaced. "My neck is killing me, and my back is one giant knot," he stretched slowly, working each limb as if it were stiff as a board – motions that upset his center of gravity, causing him to lose his balance and stumble against the boxes behind him. Off popped one box's lid, and his foot landed squarely on the canister valve inside.

His hands went up immediately and his grimace deepened. "Don't shoot! I just lost my footing!"

"What's that hissing?" Krol demanded, trying to see past Obi-Wan's legs.

"What was in that crate?" the eldest brother cocked his blaster directly between his prisoner's eyes. "Tell me now or –"

The blaster drooped to his side as he clutched his green throat with his other hand. On either side of him, his brothers reacted the same. Obi-Wan summoned his lightsaber from the leader's belt with little effort, flaring it to life as the three captors coughed and wheezed.

"I'd be happy to tell you," he sidestepped toward the door. "Chlorioma gas. More than enough to knock you all out for a day, maybe two, based on the titration. Guaranteed to make heavier sleepers out of you than even me!"

It was all too easy weaving past their pathetic attempts to shoot. One was already collapsing to the floor, while another fell into a box pile quite ungracefully.

"Idiot!" the latter croaked before he blacked out. "You stupid… brother… Greedo…"

Obi-Wan paused in the doorway, grinning. "By the way, thanks for all the information. You don't know how helpful you've been! Good day!" He soldered the metal doorframe shut with his lightsaber on the way out.

Mos Eisley was especially grotesque under pitch black, but he oriented himself soon enough and reached his ship's hangar fifteen minutes later. He jumped in the cockpit without any hesitation. Owen and Beru would wonder and worry about him, but he couldn't risk being seen by the same eyes as before. And even if he could, matters were far too urgent to waste another second in the galaxy's armpit.

"Armpit, and then some," he muttered to himself as he ascended high above the cesspool. "The scum and villainy are in a league of their own."

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_And so Greedo makes his first appearance. I invented the name of the Rodian-specific poison, but the subplot came straight from the Clone Wars episode "Senate Murders." _


	30. Chapter 29

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**Chapter 29**

"Back already, Obi-Wan?" Yoda said from his meditation cushion, where he sat with his back to the Jedi who entered the chamber. "Not expect you to return so soon, did I. Good news does this indicate?"

"That depends on how you look at it," Obi-Wan occupied a nearby cushion. "If by 'good,' you mean information that leaves us more perplexed than before, then yes."

Yoda broke his mediation and opened his eyes. "Discovered something, hm? Just as I predicted?"

"Yes, but not even you could have predicted what exactly." Presenting the green Jedi with a datapad, Obi-Wan took a breath. "This is the Prime Galactic Credit Union account from which 10,000 druggats was paid to three gangsters on Tatooine. They orchestrated Shmi Skywalker's capture three years ago, acting as arbiters for the Sand People."

"How did you learn of this?"

"From the gangsters themselves. They tracked me from Mos Eisley to the Lars' homestead and several other farms," Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "They assaulted me at a café and dragged me away. And do you know why?"

Obviously not knowing, Yoda waited expectantly.

"Because I, like their mysterious client, was dressed as a Jedi."

Yoda's dismay was instant. "One of us, it surely could not be!"

"Not one of our _current_ comrades," Obi-Wan specified. "Count Dooku."

Yoda processed this revelation with his usual sobriety. Brow furrowing, he pondered the implications. "Bizarre this would not be, had Dooku known Skywalker at the time."

"My point exactly!" Obi-Wan made a fist. "He'd have no reason to target the mother of a Jedi he'd never met! The Clone Wars hadn't yet begun. A reclusive ex-Jedi would know nothing of a padawan's family, much less care!"

Yoda shifted his attention to the datapad in his hands. "This account belongs to the Prime Galactic Credit Union, you say?"

"Yes, why?"

"Very elite, exclusive bank is that. High minimum balance required, and high maintenance fees. Only the richest citizens of Coruscant are eligible."

"I didn't know that," Obi-Wan frowned. "Dooku's citizenship would have lapsed after ten years of non-residency, so he couldn't be the account holder."

Yoda pressed his lips in agreement. "Investigate this, I will. No reason has the credit union to hide this information. Know they do not why we are asking," he pulled a small holo communicator from his robes. Ten seconds later, the image of a robed bank executive appeared before their eyes.

"Jedi Master Yoda, good evening!" the man greeted. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Good evening, administrator Ronn. A simple request I have. If I provide you with an account number, might you provide the owner's name?"

"Yes, senate bill 2335 of Intergalactic Commerce allows that information to be public," Ronn replied. "But nothing else. I cannot give you the current balance or detailed account history."

"Understood. Need that I do not," Yoda waved a hand. "The number is 757790."

The administrator nodded and entered the code on a device of his own. Within seconds he had their answer.

"That account belongs to Chancellor Palpatine."

Had Yoda not already been sitting, he'd have fallen on his rear. Across from him, Obi-Wan's eyes bulged and his face slowly began to lose color. Both of their tongues were temporarily paralyzed.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with?" Ronn asked, puzzled as to why Yoda appeared to have just seen a ghost.

The green Jedi looked almost ill. "No… no, thank you, administrator Ronn," he replied numbly.

Bowing, the banker's blue figure shimmered away, leaving the two Jedi alone – save for the gargantuan bantha in the room. They stared at each other for a long minute, gauging each other's shock and searching for something, anything, in the other's eyes that could guide their words. Each hoped the other would find the courage to speak first.

"There must be some mistake!" Obi-Wan blurted out, too stunned for anything more eloquent.

"No, deceit I sensed not from Ronn," Yoda said quietly. "The Chancellor's this account _is_."

"But how? Do you realize the implications?"

"Of course I do. But assume nothing until spoken with Palpatine himself, we have."

Obi-Wan paled even more at the thought. "Who will have _that_ honor?"

"Open lines of communication, the two of you have. Better he should be confronted by a closer acquaintance than I."

"You make it sound like a chat between friends!" Obi-Wan balked. "Master Yoda, if we follow this path where it's leading, I believe we'll discover Chancellor Palpatine is involved with the Sith!"

"Exaggerate the situation, I fear you may," Yoda pressed his lips.

"Not in the least! He and Dooku were obviously cohorts! What other conclusion is there?"

"Perhaps extorted, Palpatine was! Coerced by the Count to fund Shmi's capture, or suffer consequences of which we know nothing," Yoda postulated. "Cunning and ruthless, Dooku always was, even as a Jedi. Entirely possible it is that he forced the Chancellor to cooperate."

"That still doesn't explain how Dooku knew who Shmi was! Or why he'd have any interest in her! This whole situation reeks of the dark side!" Obi-Wan contended.

Yoda frowned more deeply. "None of this do I deny. But tread cautiously we must. Give Palpatine no added reasons to be wary of us… enough tension and powerplay exists between Senate and Jedi, already."

"I don't see any delicate way of broaching the subject. How do I casually explain stumbling across his private bank account?"

Yoda rubbed his chin while contemplating this dilemma. "Tell the truth, you simply could. Share with him your trip to Tatooine just as you told me – only do not mention Dooku. Perfectly valid this approach is, especially if he has nothing to hide."

It was so simple it just might work. Through no fault or underhanded deeds of his own, Obi-Wan had come upon the information honestly. From the myriad unanswered questions it sparked regarding Anakin and the Jedi at large, he had every right to inquire further. There truly was no reason to tamper with the series of events that led to this discovery. And no reason to shrink from investigating it.

Those were the emboldening thoughts Obi-Wan clung to, anyway, as he left Yoda in the meditation chamber. Yet his feet felt on fire and his innards liquefied, and each step he took down the corridor only amplified the feeling. If supreme dread had a physical reality, this was undeniably it.

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Some hours earlier, a flat gray sky had shrouded Naboo's dawn from east to west, its melancholy wash matched perfectly with the Skywalkers' mood. As predicted, neither found peaceful sleep the night before. What little they did steal was punctuated by restless tossing and moans of discomfort. They chose to rise at a somewhat normal hour not because they felt rested, but because the bedroom had morphed into a torture chamber overnight. The plain, rough features of the kitchen had never looked more inviting.

After a meal whose tastelessness went largely unnoticed by both, they stared at the same crack in the table for at least five minutes.

"I still can't believe you ignored Obi-Wan's call last night," Padmé sounded half awake.

"I have no desire to talk to him. I'll say something I regret," Anakin glowered. "Besides, he said he'd be out of contact range – another lie!"

She winced and rubbed her eyes. "Anakin, please don't yell. I have a splitting headache."

"So do I, but our problems won't fade when our headaches do," he smashed a passing bug with his fist. "And _I'm_ still baffled by what you told me last night – that the Chancellor used the word _children_ instead of _child?_" he sounded beyond skeptical.

"It's true, Ani. That's all I can say."

"But it doesn't make sense! You heard him wrong. That has to be it."

Padmé sighed, shaking her head. "I know what I heard, and I think it's an ominous sign."

"Even if he did say it, why is it ominous? He could have been speaking rhetorically, as in he expects us to have more children in the future."

She pressed her lips and carried their plates over to the sink, too tired to argue. If he was determined to keep vilifying the Jedi while venerating the Chancellor, it mattered little what she said. He was even more stubborn than she, which was rather frightening in all honesty.

"Fine, forget it," she rinsed a plate. "There are plenty of other unpleasant topics to choose from besides."

"Such as the fact that I now have nobody to guide me in saving your life?" Anakin moved in beside her, gently taking the plate from her hands. "Sit down. I'll finish these."

Padmé rolled her eyes at his absurd statement and unnecessary chivalry. "I can handle washing a few dishes. Just like I'll be able to handle childbirth."

"Sit. Down."

She knew the sternness in his voice wasn't just to assert his position at the sink. With a frustrated sigh, she complied. A few tense minutes followed as she watched him handle the dishes. Neither wanted to repeat last night, but the unresolved issues weren't going anywhere.

"This is just sad and ironic. We should be arguing over baby names right now, not life or death matters!" Padmé almost laughed.

"Names won't matter much if you're not around to hear or say them," Anakin said darkly.

Sighing, Padmé had just about lost all tolerance for this subject. "All your fears are based on one previous dream – that of your mother's death. You know I'm not superstitious enough to share that fear, but have you stopped to consider a key difference between that instance and mine?"

His brow remained heavy as he stared at her.

"What you saw was the direct, unavoidable result of events that were _already underway_. Shmi had been a prisoner for weeks by the time you had that dream… so it wasn't really as prophetic as it seemed. The danger was present and tangible in a way mine simply isn't. I have no health conditions that predispose me to labor any worse than other women's."

She saw the wheels turning in his mind, her logic being reluctantly processed. Yet she knew better than to entertain hopes of him fully relenting.

"Rationalizing it that way might help you, but Jedi rely on more. The Force is so much more than mere logic and reasoning. And what I feel within it is deeply unsettling, whenever I think of you," his eyes fell, revealing a vulnerable side she rarely saw. It was in moments like these that Padmé actually felt able to connect with him, rather than playing the role of psychologist to infiltrate his walls.

"I wish I could understand," she said, and meant it. Fate really was cruel in separating him from the only support network who _could_ understand. "I don't mean to sound petulant, but what makes you so sure the Jedi can help us? What could they offer besides empathy?"

"There _is_ something. I sensed it the day they assigned me to investigate the disturbance in the Force… I knew I was drawing closer to discovery. But then everything came crashing down," he clenched both fists.

"I see. And you've completely disowned them now?"

He flicked his eyes up, regarding her coolly. "After Obi-Wan's betrayal, what choice do I have?"

"I'm just surprised you're willing to risk my life over a matter of principle."

His walls were up once again. "I don't judge your political affairs, and I'll thank you to respect my judgment in Jedi matters. It matters little, in any event. I've determined what is necessary and I can execute it on my own."

Padmé's eyes widened. "Oh? What's that?"

"We're returning to Coruscant tomorrow."

He said it so casually, without blinking, with no sign that he recognized the insanity of that statement. Return? Presumably without notice? Before they knew if and how the media had cooled in wake of the press conference barely one week ago? And to what end? Confront the Jedi, demand to know the "secrets" they'd supposedly withheld for over a decade, and be on their merry way? He'd officially lost his mind!

"And just what do you have planned when we return?"

"I'm going to access the holocron vault in the temple. The Jedi's most hallowed secrets are in there," Anakiin began to pace, imagining it all in his mind. "I don't need them. I only need them to be distracted while I deactivate the vault security."

Utterly shocked by his audacity, Padmé's mouth hung open. Nothing about his countenance indicated the matter was open to discussion.

"But the media… there must be reporters at the temple, 500 Republica, and every major landing platform within a 100 mile radius! We'll be spotted immediately!"

Without a word, he walked over to the jumble of crates and boxes in the corner and plucked one, tossing it onto the table with a thud. Two pairs of Twi'lek head tails dangled over the rim.

"May as well get our money's worth out of these," he nudged the box. "I'll help you pack."

And pack they did – with Padmé's head swimming and Anakin's jaw firmly locked in place. Of course, "I'll help you pack" was really a euphemism for "I'll pack everything while you watch." Not that he heard her complaining. The day was turning out to be a hot one, and sitting allowed Padmé cool comfort, not to mention a continuous view of her husband moving boxes in nothing but shorts and a sleeveless under-tunic.

Boxes which, neither could have known, contained a music box packed deep within one of the "baby crates." Neither did they know of the small tracking device affixed to its bottom, blinking red as it transmitted its coordinates to an unseen – but not unfamiliar – individual halfway across the galaxy.

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_There you have it - Palpatine orchestrated Shmi's capture. That's actually a canon theory - and it's what made the wheels start turning for this entire plot. When I first discovered it on Wookieepedia, my imagination started going a hundred miles an hour... and here's where it brought me. :)_

_Coruscant citizenship lapsing after 10 years of non-residency… I made that up. Hey, it's a crowded planet… statutes to keep the population/turnover rate under control kind of make sense… at least, that's what I tell myself._


	31. Chapter 30

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**Chapter 30**

Sweaty palms were a rare phenomenon for Obi-Wan. He could count on one hand (no pun intended) the number of times he'd experienced the slippery condition due to acute stress.

That is, until today. He'd have to use both hands to count from now on.

_I'm thinking too much_, he scolded himself, but it did little good. His mind refused to be silenced or artificially calmed as visions of disaster pranced before it. So preoccupied was he that when he arrived at the Chancellor's office, he had no memory of traveling there. Yet nowhere else could he be, with gilded doors before his nose and deep red carpet under his feet.

It was nearly dusk. Palpatine wasn't expecting him; he'd chosen surprise over security. He'd sleep at the foot of these doors all night if need be. Whatever it took.

_This is for you, Anakin. Force be with me…_

His hand felt detached from his body as he knocked. When Palpatine opened it seconds later, he looked as surprised as Obi-Wan looked pale.

"Master Kenobi! I didn't expect to see you again for at least a few more days, due to your mission. Was it successful?"

"You could say so," Obi-Wan swallowed. "Incidentally, your Excellency, the details of my trip are what I came to discuss, if you have a few spare minutes."

"For the Jedi, always!" he welcomed him inside.

"Thank you. I apologize for arriving unannounced, but I just returned this afternoon and felt the matter was too urgent to wait."

"You certainly have my attention. Please be seated," the chancellor invited, taking his seat across the polished desk.

Obi-Wan sat, grateful to rest his shaking knees. "I visited Tatooine. It was the council's hope that I might gain better perspective on Shmi Skywalker's death, in order to give Anakin some closure when he could very much use it," he began. "Just when I thought the mission had failed, something very odd happened."

Palpatine nodded, curious but not overly so.

"Three Rodian gangsters abducted me in Mos Eisley. They dragged me away and insisted I owed them money for a job they performed three years ago – the capture of Shmi Skywalker, to be exact," palm sweat was beginning to soak through Obi-Wan's pants. "Stranger still was when I feigned cooperation and asked for the bank account number. They gave me a six-digit code belonging to the Prime Galactic Credit Union. Administrator Ronn identified it as your personal account."

An untrained observer would have missed the wicked flash in Palpatine's eyes. A Jedi, however, could catch it as easily as a frog catches a fly. Just as Obi-Wan did in that instant.

Yet the politician's suave veneer quickly smoothed out that millisecond of villainy. He now appeared stricken, afflicted by a painful memory he'd hoped to avoid. His eyes drooped under the unseen weight of great sadness.

"I know what you must be thinking, Obi-Wan," he conceded with disarming humility. "In truth, I'm only just learning of this myself."

This was definitely not the response Obi-Wan had anticipated. The Chancellor's grief was almost as palpable as the chairs in which they sat. Yet still, instinct told the Jedi to listen with caution.

"It was just before the Clone Wars erupted that Count Dooku first contacted me," Palpatine explained. "He was holding Renus Shey, a newly elected senator, hostage. He demanded a ransom of 10,000 druggats, which I thought a rather odd request, given their limited circulation. But I complied. The money was transferred to Tatooine, and that was the last I heard of it… aside from senator Shey never being seen again."

Renus Shey was one of Padmé's comrades, as Obi-Wan recalled – and one of a handful of senators who opposed the Military Creation Act. Red flags were unfurling all over this story, but he was forced to keep listening with restraint. _Just as Yoda guessed. Using Dooku as a scapegoat rather than the accomplice he truly was. _

"So you were never told the purpose of the money?" Obi-Wan asked.

"No, not at all. Dooku never mentioned it was for bounty hunters, much less ones who were after Anakin's own mother," Palpatine's voice caught.

"Have you any idea why she was targeted?"

The Chancellor shook his head hopelessly. "He must have chosen a Jedi at random, just to send ripples of unease throughout the Order."

It took no small effort for Obi-Wan to keep his gaze level. The temptation to throw the Chancellor's lies back in his face was overwhelming_. Sorry your Excellency, but that's bullshit. We both know the real answer is that you're in league with Dooku, and Shmi was just a pawn in some twisted scheme the two of you hatched_. Oh, if only he could be so candid.

"Well, that is a _very_ unfortunate story, Chancellor. I'm sorry you had to hear the end like this. And I'm doubly sorry Anakin still lacks full closure on this matter."

"As am I, master Kenobi, as am I," Palpatine laid a hand over his heart. "Never could I have imagined this was Dooku's aim, and never would I wish it upon anyone, especially Anakin. At least there was some justice in Anakin ending him on the _Invisible Hand_."

Obi-Wan was about to begrudgingly agree when something struck him as odd. _Ending him?_ Defeating seemed a more appropriate word, but then, Obi-Wan always was more anal with grammar than most people. Still…

"Chancellor Palpatine, what did you observe of their duel while I was unconscious?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be able to describe the various techniques and stances of lightsaber combat," Palpatine deferred to humility once again.

"That's not what I'm asking. You saw Dooku fall, I didn't."

The Chancellor grimaced and shifted in his chair. "Master Kenobi, such gruesome details should not be revisited. It's indecent."

"As a key member of your rescue, and as Anakin's mentor, I would very much like to know what transpired. Indecent or not, it is prudent that I know."

"If you wish," Palpatine reluctantly said. "I'll warn you, the scene still haunts me. Anakin fought exceptionally well, and it wasn't long before he had Dooku on his knees with both hands severed. It was a pitiful sight, and I implored him to spare the count's life, in spite of all he's done. I tried appealing to the Jedi's code of mercy, but he was too filled with the spirit of revenge… the next thing I knew, Dooku's head was on the floor," he shut his eyes as if to avoid seeing it again.

Another lie? Obi-Wan tried to discern the truthfulness of Palpatine's account. Anakin _had_ dodged the subject in the days following the rescue. He never did get around to giving Obi-Wan the full, unabridged report. And if Palpatine and Dooku were colleagues, the former would have indeed tried to save the latter from destruction.

Some things added up, others didn't. Half lies and incomplete truths… this was harder to navigate than a misty cave of dive-bombing mynocks.

"It seems you're not the only one to receive depressing news this evening, Chancellor," he responded. "I appreciate you telling me. It's important the council has all relevant information when deciding Anakin's future career."

"Oh dear, I hope I didn't just ruin it entirely."

"_You_ have done nothing. Anakin is the only one responsible for jeopardizing his career," Obi-Wan insisted, rising with a sigh. "Thank you again for your time, Chancellor. It is greatly appreciated."

The two exchanged bows across the desk, their shadows overlapping as the sun impaled Coruscant's top spires. Light and dark coexisted in this twilit limbo, just as truth and lies swirled between Jedi and Supreme Chancellor. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. Had he looked, he might have spotted his comlink on the floor, fallen as it had from a hole in his pocket. A hole torn by being roughly dragged from the Mos Eisley café.

He'd have also caught Palpatine's vitriolic glare burning a hole in the back of his head. But no one, not even Yoda himself, could have imagined the thoughts churning behind that glare.

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Yoda hadn't moved an inch since Obi-Wan last saw him. Still seated on a round leather cushion, the green Jedi's ears perked when his colleague returned.

"Still lounging comfortably, while I do the dirty work?" Obi-Wan said in jest.

Yoda's eyes remained closed. "Hmm. Not drifting aimlessly has my mind been. Sensed something while you were away, I did."

"What did you sense?"

"Very brief it was, but very intense," Yoda knitted his brow in concentration. "Alarm. Panic. Rage. Feel it all I did, for barely an instant."

Without having to pause and think, Obi-Wan's mind returned to Palpatine's wrathful expression. It had lasted all but an instant, and it certainly seemed to contain those elements.

"You felt Palpatine's reaction when he learned we knew of his bank account."

Yoda's eyes snapped open.

"He was taken by surprise, caught off-guard for a fraction of a second," Obi-Wan confirmed. "He tried to save face by fabricating a story about Dooku demanding ransom for a senator. I pretended to go along with it."

"Panic and rage, of an innocent conscience they are not."

"No. And he offered a weak theory behind Dooku targeting Anakin's mother."

Green pointy ears drooped along with Yoda's spirits. "No room for further optimism is there. Involved with the Sith, the Chancellor appears to be."

Hearing the words from Yoda himself was like a death knoll. Obi-Wan felt faint. All these years, the senate – the Republic – the Jedi – had all been under the influence of a corrupt leader? It was too devastating to be true. And yet, the evidence could not be ignored. Especially when he and Yoda were the two lone souls in the entire galaxy who knew the horrible truth.

The question was, however, just how deep and sinister that truth ran. Were they really the only ones aware? Every senator, every diplomat from every system had just become suspect. Although, more accomplices meant more liability, and he doubted Palpatine would accept that risk with such a diabolical plot.

And then, caught in the furious undertow of this sea of thoughts, Obi-Wan gasped for air.

"Master Yoda… Sith always operate in pairs. You don't suppose…"

They locked eyes. Neither moved a single muscle fiber.

"_Impossible!_" Yoda hissed.

Obi-Wan was shaking his head slowly, eyes unblinking and mouth agape as it all crashed down on him. "Oh, but it is! _Force_…" he dug his fingernails into his palms to ensure he wasn't dreaming. "It's all there… the disturbance in the Force, the endless war, our enemies always one step ahead of us! It's Palpatine! _He's_ the other half of the Sith!"

"Think of what you are saying, Obi-Wan! Certain doom this would mean for the Republic!" Yoda cried.

"Search your feelings, Master Yoda! It _is_ as I say!"

"But how did we not see it? So blind, how could we be?"

"That's the truly chilling part. If he's shielded his identity from the council all these years, his powers are beyond any we've seen!" Obi-Wan stood and began pacing. "Which means they're beyond what you and I can defeat alone."

Yoda nodded gravely. "Much reinforcement will we need to confront him. Masters Windu, Mundi, Koon, Fisto, and others must all return from their missions. Contact them immediately."

Obi-Wan never thought he'd see the day when hunting Grievous became their second priority. But he could think of nothing that warranted it more. "It will take time for them to rendezvous. Maybe two or three days."

"Then wait we must," Yoda raised his chin. "Strike too soon, we cannot afford to. But Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?"

"What say you to summoning Skywalker back?"

The thought had, of course, crossed Obi-Wan's mind when counting available allies; he'd dismissed it within seconds. Having one more lightsaber on their side was tempting, but there were far too many unresolved issues surrounding Anakin. The last thing they needed were distractions in the midst of confronting Palpatine – and distractions had all but become Anakin's middle name.

"Not a good idea," he stated. "He may cause us to lose focus. And I sense a conflict of interest. Palpatine has an affinity for Anakin that contrasts his general mistrust of the Council. Whatever that signifies, I don't want it interfering."

"Argue with that I cannot. Minimize our risks, we must," Yoda hopped down from the cushion. "I will help you send the urgent messages to our brethren. Come – the fateful hour is upon us."

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Deep within the Senate building's catacombs, a figure slithered between shadows as it wrung its hands beneath voluminous sleeves. Not a solitary soul witnessed its movements, nor did any ears hear its intermittent cackling. Its mad, mumbled ramblings were almost lyrical in a demented musical sense. It alternated between sounds of wicked glee, seething fury, and flat, emotionless calculations. At times it seemed to have a peculiar, delirious rhythm.

Whispers, softer than silk filaments at first, slid past the figure's cracked lips. But the whispers grew to a low, throaty mumble, which then rose another octave, until finally it was shouting.

"They know too much!" it exclaimed to the universe at large. "They know _too much!_"

Echoes were Palpatine's only chorus, but it pleased him nonetheless. Almost as much as it pleased him to warm Obi-Wan's missing comlink in his palm.

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_Yoda and Obi-Wan: not half as clueless and inept as the movie. Imagine that!  
And Renus Shey is an invented character. You won't find him on Wookieepedia._


	32. Chapter 31

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**Chapter 31**

Mist and fog ringed the Gallo Mountains the next morning, filling the air with a damp chill that Padmé and Anakin inhaled upon waking. Through a gap in the curtains they could see the ghostly shapes of clone troopers in the mist. The squadron's movements were restless as they awaited departure.

CT-53 had objected to Anakin's decision to leave but lacked any power of veto. Much like Padmé. The only thing keeping her objections in check was the very appealing prospect of sleeping in her own bed again. As much as she loved Naboo's countryside, domestic instincts were starting to override nostalgia. She couldn't deny Coruscant's advantage over Naboo at this point.

_At least we have the disguises_, she rummaged through the costume box. Anakin joined her and wordlessly began applying prosthetics and body paint. Half an hour later, they were putting the final touches on their Twi'lek appearances when Anakin's comlink buzzed.

The blue translucent figure that appeared was the last either of them expected.

"Chancellor!" Anakin blurted.

"Is that you, Anakin?" Palpatine drew a face. "That's quite the disguise. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a matter of utmost urgency."

_It's not a disturbance as much as a total shock._ "How did you access this frequency? I was told it was secure."

"Unfortunately, that's the reason I've contacted you," Palpatine sighed. "Your safety has been severely compromised. News is rapidly spreading about your location on Naboo."

Anakin and Padmé exchanged stupefied looks. "_What?_"

"If I didn't tell you, I feared you'd discover it the hard way. You must return to Coruscant as soon as possible," he urged.

"That won't be a problem. As evidenced by our disguises, we already planned on leaving today," Anakin replied. "But Chancellor, how…?"

"How did your secret escape?" Palpatine hung his head. "My friend, it pains me to tell you, but Obi-Wan has betrayed you once again. He told me your whereabouts yesterday evening when he returned from Tatooine. He obviously didn't stop with me, because I overheard at least half a dozen senators stoking the rumor."

Anakin couldn't see straight. Obi-Wan was out of control. Betraying their trust to the ultimate degree… did the media make him an offer he couldn't refuse? _I wonder if he got to name his price_, Anakin seethed. Unbelievable. Unforgivable. And Tatooine? He'd withheld _that_ interesting little detail as well. Who knew what trouble he'd stirred up there. Whatever the nature of that secret mission, it was surely steeped in ulterior motives.

"Words cannot express my sympathy. Nor can I emphasize enough that, despite this crisis of betrayal and mistrust, you and senator Amidala can unequivocally trust me," Palpatine vowed with a hand over his heart. "In fact, I offer you both asylum on Coruscant. If you feel unsafe at the temple or the senator's apartment, you may stay with me as long as you wish."

"That's very generous, your Excellency," Anakin acknowledged. "We will decide once we arrive."

"Safe travels, my friends," the Chancellor bowed. "Although I wish we were reuniting under different circumstances, I look forward to seeing both of you again soon."

The instant the transmission dissolved, Anakin's head tails flailed as he stormed out the front door. Fog raced from his menacing form.

"Sergeant! We leave in ten minutes, not one second later!" he shouted into the mist.

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The distance between Coruscant and Naboo hadn't changed in one week, yet Anakin and Padmé's perception of it certainly had. Helplessness and shame had been their carry-on baggage seven days ago. Now it was steely conviction and pride that filled their cabin. Though they passed by the same planets as before, they looked upon them with a perspective so different that they may as well have been new, uncharted worlds. It was amazing how attitude could affect something as plain as deep space travel.

Amazing, too, was Anakin's state of mind. With the clone squadron piloting the ship, he and Padmé had unbroken hours to themselves. Though she feared his mood would be dark and brooding as ever, he proved surprisingly well-disposed to temperate topics of conversation. She discovered as much when he interrupted her nap by sliding in next to her on the narrow bunk.

"Move over, I can't fit," he huffed.

Padmé laughed as if he were a child complaining of being too short. "That's because your children haven't left you any space."

Grunting as he fought to gain mattress real estate, Anakin eventually gave up and sat on the edge of the bed, frowning ruefully. One of his prosthetic head tails separated from his scalp in the process.

"A fine way to treat their father!" he rubbed her stomach, grinning despite himself. "I'm sure I'll love them, but right now I wish they weren't such an inconvenience. They have a real knack for… getting in the way," he winked.

Padmé blushed, recalling their awkward bedroom maneuvers since he'd returned from war. His levitation skills had definitely been helpful.

His smile shrank but didn't entirely disappear. "It's crazy, the clarity and peace of mind I have now that I know we'll all be safe. I can finally let myself envision the future… _our_ future," he said wistfully as tiny hands and feet pummeled his palms.

"And what do you see?"

"Wholeness. Autonomy." He sighed with fragile satisfaction. "I no longer care what happens to my career. As far as I'm concerned, Obi-Wan has already ended it for me."

"Anakin, I hope you're not saying that just to spare _my_ career."

"At one point it would've been for that reason, but not now. Not after being utterly betrayed. My connection with the Jedi fades more each hour."

He said it calmly, with few traces of bitterness or resentment, but it still troubled Padmé. "I can't decide whether that's better or worse than abandoning it for me."

"Don't you see? You _are_ the reason, no matter how I frame it. Choosing to love you is what led to all this. You're the catalyst for my freedom. You always have been," he brushed her cheek. "Don't feel guilty. I don't."

She pressed her lips and nodded reluctantly. "I'll try not to. But lately I've been thinking… I'm not as attached to being a senator as I once was. I'm actually starting to favor the idea of retiring early."

"Really?"

"My sister Sola helped me sort through my insecurities," her smile was hesitant, vulnerable. "Being a mother doesn't scare me as much anymore."

"And separating myself from the Jedi doesn't scare me either. We've both conquered our fears."

Padmé stared at the swollen belly beneath his hands – two flesh hands, both of them warm and gentle as they caressed the twins. In that moment, in cramped quarters pressurized against the cold vacuum of space, they felt closer to home than ever – both physically and in the depths of their hearts. If they could insulate themselves as in this cabin, the future might not be so frightening after all.

"Now all we have to do is wait for them to arrive," she said softly. "Are you ready?"

"My heart has been ready since the day I saw you at the clinic. My _mind_ will be once I access the holocron vault."

"How will you know where to look? Aren't there thousands upon thousands of holocron cubes?"

"I'll sense which one I need," he replied haughtily. "It will take a matter of minutes."

Padmé laid her hand across his new one. "What if you get caught?"

He smirked. "You've seen me in action during the war. You shouldn't worry."

"You're not convinced when I assure you I'm healthy, so why should _your_ word be enough for _me?_"

Considering early retirement or not, Padmé wasn't likely to lose her political savvy anytime soon. Anakin had to admire that much.

"Fair enough. We'll plan a diversion for Obi-Wan, at the very least."

She pursed her lips. "I wish all this subterfuge was unnecessary. Above all, I hate that it's come to this, and what it signifies for the Republic's future."

"There's no other choice," Anakin empathized. "Corruption is too rampant to trust anyone but ourselves – and the Chancellor, of course. But he has enough weighing on his mind. I don't want to impose on him if we can help it."

Palpatine's offer for asylum replayed in Padmé's mind. It should have eased her worry, not doubled it instantly. Something about the invitation made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Maybe it was only pre-labor jitters, wanting the environment to be just right for giving birth.

Or maybe it was that nagging memory of him knowing there were twins before he had any right to. Anakin may brush it aside, but she couldn't dismiss it. There was far too much odd behavior happening lately – on both sides of the political fence.

"I'd prefer to stay at the apartment as well," she agreed simply.

"Good," Anakin kissed her stomach and then her lips. "I'll let you return to your nap. Just another few hours, and everything will be set right."

He sounded so certain, so confident in their course of action. Part of her found comfort and security in his strength; his charisma always had been infectious. Yet it still wasn't enough to subdue what was gnawing at her subconscious, much less her conscious concerns.

Discarding their careers should be a voluntary choice, not a compulsory one. For her, the means justified the ends here. What joy would they find in domestic life if they were forced into it? The odds were just as good that they'd have freely chosen it themselves, but to be denied the opportunity to arrive there on their own… something precious was stripped away. She wasn't sure how long, if ever, it would take for that wound to heal.

That was to say nothing of the Republic's wounds. She'd resorted to shutting those thoughts from her mind. They were entirely too painful to dwell upon, and much too heavy for a single conscience to bear.

By the time she succeeded in letting that conscience fall back asleep, CT-53 announced they were entering Coruscant's atmosphere. The faint outline of her Twi'lek disguise stared back at her as she gazed out the nearest portal. Beneath her ribs, the twins' frantic movements weren't the only thing upsetting her stomach.

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As predicted, reporters swarmed the fringes of the landing platform, cameras poised to capture the infamous Anakin and Padmé Skywalker if they dared show their faces. Most of them looked half awake. No doubt the endless, tireless watch for the Jedi and senator's return had grown laborious by now. Padmé had to stifle a laugh at their yawns and drowsy eyes, half of which showed zero interest in her and Anakin as they passed by. A few unconsciously tracked her enormous belly, but soon shifted to scan other disembarking passengers.

The transport ride to 500 Republica was also uneventful. Having contacted Dormé and C3PO in advance to admit them entry to the building, they walked past another posse of reporters hovering outside the lobby. And then it was up the elevator with mischievous grins.

C3PO was beside himself when his masters appeared at the door. "Master Anakin and Miss Padmé! How wonderful to have you back! It feels like ages since I last saw you both. You make a splendid Twi'lek couple, I daresay. It must have helped you slip past all those media vultures at the door. You both look well, with Miss Padmé as round and glowing as ever! Miss Dormé and I were just about to prepare dinner. I can take your luggage while you settle in."

Padmé laughed at the droid's ceaseless chatter and Anakin rolled his eyes. It was good to be back, no matter the circumstances. Dormé appeared moments later and began assisting Padmé with removing her disguise while Anakin scrubbed the paint from his face. Nearby, C3PO lingered awkwardly.

"Sir, the Chancellor left a message shortly before you arrived. He wishes to meet with you at 1100 hours tomorrow morning."

Anakin wiped the last smudge of green from his chin. "Very good. He's the only person I care to see right now."

"Shall I inform the Council you've returned, or have you already done so?"

Anakin turned from the sink, eyes severe. "You are _not_ to alert them, understand?"

The protocol droid was baffled by the gag order. _Such a blatant breach of etiquette_. "If you insist, sir."

The remainder of the evening was pleasant enough, especially once the clones delivered the baby boxes; Padmé and Dormé gushed over their contents until half past midnight, when neither could keep her eyes open any longer. They scarcely noticed Anakin secluded in the study, poring over holocron vault diagrams and schematics while they fondled rattles and stuffed toys. The contrast couldn't be greater: simple joy and innocence in one room and underhanded scheming in the other.

Of even greater contrast was what, unbeknownst to everyone on Coruscant, was transpiring at the very vault Anakin was studying. The cloaked, cackling figure was sliding through shadows once again, this time with something in hand. Something everyone would wake up to the following morning.

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_Yes, it's ironic/silly that Palpatine can foresee all kinds of crap, yet he needs a tracking beacon to show him where Anakin & Padmé are. Hey, no one can see everything 100% of the time. So he needs a little help. Give the guy a break. :P Kidding._


	33. Chapter 32

_It's not over yet... six more chapters after this one!_**********  
**

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**Chapter 32**

The plan was simple neither in theory nor execution: slip into the temple once Padmé contacted Obi-Wan to lure him to 500 Republica. Hotwire and Force-suggest his way into the holocron vault. Scan the floor-to-ceiling archives for the single cube he needed. Slip back out and loiter somewhere until Padmé sent word that all was clear at the apartment. Bring home the holocron and use its contents to save Padmé's life.

Nothing exceptional or complicated about it at all. And not a snowball's chance on Mustafar that something could go wrong. If he started at a reasonable hour, Anakin could easily scratch that to-do list before meeting with the Chancellor.

He'd smeared just enough green paint on his face to make himself unrecognizable beneath his Jedi hood. No one would question his presence at the temple, but no one would identify him either. He'd glide like a ghost through secret corridors and seldom-used tunnels. It really wasn't all that difficult. Honestly, it was surprising Cad Bane was the only one to ever infiltrate the vault. The security network had several gaps and holes – if you knew where to look.

Of course, those holes were only advantageous if one could access the building in the first place.

Anakin was halfway up the broad main staircase when the explosion knocked him to the ground.

Dozens of other pedestrians within a five-mile block also toppled. Screams of terror and dismay rose with the early morning sun as smoke was seen billowing from the temple's upper windows, which had blown out from the blast.

_What the Sith? _Anakin clambered to stand, his face a wide-eyed mask of shock. _That came from inside the temple!_

Chaos broke out everywhere he looked. Citizens ran in every direction, throwing fearful looks over their shoulders as if one of the towers might fall any minute. The smoke cloud cast an ever-growing shadow over their frantic forms. Anakin stayed rooted to his spot on the steps, paralyzed by confusion and indecision. Where did this leave his foolproof plan now? From what he could gauge from the outside, the explosion had ripped through the very section that housed the vault.

_I wonder if Obi-Wan left to see Padmé before that blew. The temple's security lockdown will hold him a while if he didn't._

Obi-Wan had indeed exited the temple just minutes before, narrowly missing the event. So narrow was his escape that he witnessed the explosion while circling the temple after takeoff. His jaw dropped no less than Anakin's had.

"Force! Could this day be off to a worse start?" his fingers felt numb on the steering wheel. "It wasn't enough Padmé told me she and Anakin returned, _oh no_. There _also_ needs to be a temple disaster!"

The only bright side was that none of the summoned Jedi Masters had yet returned after receiving Yoda's urgent call. As it was, Yoda and a handful of padawans and younglings were the only ones confined within the lockdown system.

Communications would be down as well. That meant he'd have to alert the incoming Masters of the situation. Or, to save himself time, he'd just contact the one closest to arrival – Mace, who could relay the message down the line. Once that was accomplished, he shifted his focus back to Padmé. He may as well follow through on his visit. There was little he could do until the damage was abated and the lockdown disengaged. Yoda was on his own for the next two or three hours.

Several hundred yards below Obi-Wan, Anakin continued to stare at the smoking tower, dumbstruck and immobilized. He might have stood there all day if his comm hadn't gone off.

"Anakin, where are you? Are you all right?" Palpatine's anxious voice crackled through.

"I'm outside the temple on the main steps. No harm done, but…"

"I'm watching live footage right now. They're sending an evacuation squad, you need to get out of there!"

"I… I don't…"

"Come to the senate building. It's closer than your apartment, and all things considered, safer as well."

Emergency sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer each second. Being identified by a mob-buster was even less a part of his plan. He _was_ planning on seeing the Chancellor in a few hours anyway. He'd just be fashionably early.

Reaching the senate dome was easy with Coruscant's attention directed everywhere but his hooded form. Everyone was engrossed in the nearest Holonet broadcast and wearing identical expressions of alarm. He'd have joined their horrified vigil if he could risk being seen up close… and if his shattered plans weren't in desperate need of being pieced back together. If anyone could help him do so, it was the Chancellor.

Anakin found Palpatine wearing a shallow trench into his red carpet. Occasionally he glanced at the live Holonet feed steaming to his desk station. Columns of thick gray smoke stained the cityscape beyond.

"Emergency crews have cleared the area and are securing the interior of the temple," a nondescript reporter was saying. "No word yet on the number of casualties. Stay with HoloGalaxy Twelve for the latest developments."

Palpatine said nothing as Anakin stepped toward the desk. Both men watched in stunned, reverent silence for a few minutes.

"What I can't fathom is who would do this and why," Palpatine lamented.

The answer came in perfect time. "This just in: six Jedi have been proclaimed dead. Four were transported with moderate injuries to the nearest clinic. Crews discovered the following message etched into the holocron vault's floor: _'Too many secrets for the Jedi, now a few less - the Force Bomber.'_"

Palpatine met Anakin's eyes with regret. "Others must suspect the Jedi's hidden agenda as I do."

"Damage is contained to the northwest tower," the reporter continued. "The area most affected was the holocron vault, and the majority of data cubes within it were destroyed."

Anakin's knees felt like rubber. _Destroyed_… just as his wife would be.

"You don't look well Anakin. You should sit."

He slouched into the nearest chair, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Palpatine brought him a glass of water.

"You're lucky you weren't inside when it happened," the Chancellor counseled.

The young Jedi was on the verge of passing out. He fought to regulate his breathing, but the urge to hyperventilate was mounting. "I _would_ feel grateful if my life was all I'd hoped to walk away with today."

"You were seeking something else?"

"Yes… a holocron. A very specific one."

Anakin buried his face in his hands and sobbed dryly. Standing over him, Palpatine silently watched utter devastation consume the man, letting it saturate his spirit and cocoon his soul. Only when Anakin had reached the brink of sanity was the Sith lord satisfied. And only then did he speak.

"Might it have been _this_ one?"

Heaving one last broken sob, Anakin peered through his fingers and froze. Nestled in the palm of the Chancellor's hand was a holocron, its blue latticed circuits catching the light.

He could find no words. Not even to form the basic question of how the Chancellor had come into possession of the object. Nor could he articulate what it was about that holocron that had him mesmerized. The longer he stared, the more it seemed to pulse before his eyes, sending waves of intrigue and wisps of magic into his lungs. It was intoxicating. It was…_the _holocron.

His mouth hung open, beyond astonished.

"I'll take that as a yes," Palpatine smiled, rolling the cube between his palms like a toy.

"What… how…"

"That's how you thank me? Come now, Anakin. Show a little gratitude."

"Th-thank you," Anakin parroted, slowly regaining clarity. "But you can't show me a holocron without expecting some questions in return!"

Palpatine's smile grew mildly patronizing. "Of course not. Ask me what you will. I won't obscure the truth from you as others have."

"Then you can start by telling me how you knew I needed that cube."

The politician was causally pacing, gazing absently at the holocron. "I foresaw it."

It was so cavalier, so nonchalant and blunt that Anakin thought it was a joke. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's simple, really. I foresaw you needing the cube, which was prompted by _you_ foreseeing something else. No?"

Anakin couldn't move. He felt like a small rodent freezing before a predator, hoping to avoid attack by posing as a statue. But if this predator was what the evidence suggested, such survival tactics were useless. Igniting his lightsaber was the only sane response. Launching himself from the chair, he held the sizzling blue-green blade inches from the Chancellor's nose.

"You speak of things you should _not know_," Anakin threatened. "Only a Jedi can harness the Force to sense emotions and glimpse the future. Or if not a Jedi, then…"

"Say it!" Palpatine goaded.

"_Sith!_"

Palpatine looked disappointed. "Said with such distaste. And here I'd hoped you might be above the Council's brainwashing."

"My mind is entirely my own, and it knows good from evil!"

"Good and evil are subjective, Anakin. Moreover, they are _labels_. So too is 'Sith' a label. We are raised to associate certain precepts with those labels, but we seldom question whether those concepts are solid or fluid," Palpatine calmly countered, still unfazed by the lightsaber between his eyes.

"The words of a depraved moral conscience!" Anakin shouted.

"Words, indeed. What of actions speaking louder than words?"

It seemed a non sequitur. Anakin circled the Sith lord, glaring.

"Let me remind you that it was I who alerted you to Obi-Wan's breaches of conduct. It was I who purchased a generous quantity of newborn supplies with my personal funds. And last but not least, I garnered the holocron you needed just in time," he held his head high. "It was a Sith who did these things for you. If I have acted in accordance with your misguided notion of that label, then slay me now. Otherwise, you would do well to sheathe your weapon and open your mind."

Logic and instinct were clashing like fire and ice inside Anakin's soul. _This shouldn't be happening. There should be no conflict. He is evil._ Yet the thought of where he'd be without Palpatine's aid made "evil" just what he claimed it was: a subjective label. Nothing was anything anymore. With one universal law shattered, would he find all things were fluid and malleable? Was morality just a contrived illusion with no bearing in reality?

Of only one thing was he fairly certain at this moment: Palpatine's defenseless stance was yet another action – or meaningful _inaction_ – that upheld his argument. He'd raised not one finger against Anakin's offensive. In the end, this was what tipped Anakin's internal conflict in favor of trust – if only just barely. He doused the lightsaber and awaited Palpatine's next words.

"Good. Now we can dialogue much more comfortably," Palpatine's eyes twinkled. "You're wise beyond your years, Anakin. I knew you'd grasp what others cannot."

"I've lowered my weapon, but that doesn't mean I fully accept what you are."

"How can I help you to that end?"

"Explain your ultimate goal. You've clearly gone to some trouble for my sake – what do you want with me?"

"I should think it obvious," the Sith replied. "The Jedi have become a galactic threat. You yourself have experienced their treachery. Something must be done, but I lack the power to rein in the situation alone. I need your assistance."

"And if I decline, the holocron stays with you, doesn't it?"

Palpatine gave a weary, cockeyed smile. "I don't wish you any harm, Anakin. I want this to be voluntary. As I said, you're wise enough to weigh the facts and decide for yourself."

Trying to ignore the extortion, Anakin combed through his options. He'd already planned on defecting from the Order. The issue was whether to do so alone or with a partner. That his prospective partner was Sith was slowly, insidiously becoming irrelevant. The Jedi were not what he'd grown to believe. Evidently, neither was the Sith. He was free to reject the known and embrace the unknown.

Not just free to. _Obligated_ to.

If good was evil and evil was good, what did it matter anyway?

One last look at the holocron was all he needed. "What is our first objective?"

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_Cad Bane reference is from Clone Wars episode _Holocron Heist_._

_Temple security lockdown = invented by me. Unless it's a real thing. I was too lazy to research either way._


	34. Chapter 33

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**Chapter 33**

"You've absolutely no idea where he's gone?" Obi-Wan asked Padmé for the tenth time.

"He's been out of contact since the explosion. I'm just as worried as you are," Padmé hedged.

As much as Obi-Wan wanted to believe the senator was being honest, he couldn't help but sense there was a half-truth behind her earnest words. While none of them could've anticipated the temple bomb, she must know her husband well enough to guess where he'd seek refuge in such an event. Withholding this information made little sense.

He sank into the couch cushions with a sigh. "It's critical that I find him, Padmé. Not just because of the target now hanging over every Jedi. There are other volatile circumstances the Council is in the process of mitigating. If Anakin unwittingly steps into the midst of them…"

He stopped himself from revealing too much. Padmé was an ally, but she might slip a few too many details to Anakin. That, and the fact that they chose to disobey the terms of their exile, made him wary to divulge everything. The Jedi needed to hold their cards close to their chest.

Padmé bit her lip. Sitting before Obi-Wan now, she could hardly believe those brotherly eyes were the same ones that looked into Palpatine's when betraying her secret. Or the same ones that hid beneath his hood while selling their Naboo location to a sleazy reporter in some back alley. It didn't seem possible. And yet, it had to have been. Shocking and sickening as it was, it had happened.

It took tremendous will power to convince herself of that – and to continue lying to Obi-Wan. She naturally had a theory where Anakin was waiting out the storm. But what harm could there be in keeping company with Palpatine at the senate building?

"I'll let you know the moment I hear from him," she offered as consolation.

"I'm depending on it. And though it's futile for me to say so, you _do_ know how foolish it was to return to Coruscant prematurely?"

_Maybe, maybe not_, Padmé thought evasively. "It was Anakin's idea. He insisted on the grounds that Dee'ja Peak left much to be desired in medical facilities." That carried the essence of truth. Anakin _had_ insisted due to Naboo's inadequate medicine. What she didn't mention was that he deemed _all_ hospitals to be inadequate throughout the galaxy.

"Oh, I never doubted it was Anakin's idea. So he'd prefer you give birth with a hundred cameras aimed at you?"

"I'm sure hospital security will do their job. And… truthfully, Anakin is no longer concerned with the media. He…" She closed her mouth slowly. "I'm sorry, this really isn't my business. It's for you and Anakin to discuss. I've already said more than I should."

"I see. Then I have that to look forward to," Obi-Wan frowned. "Well, I'm sure he'll show up eventually. With your due date fast approaching, he can't be far."

After bidding each other a tense farewell, Obi-Wan sat in his cockpit and cast a worried gaze to the smoke-tinged sky. Wherever Anakin was, he'd better have the sense to avoid the media until this blew over. Although Padmé's remark about him thumbing his nose at the press was rather unsettling. Almost as much as the ambiguous terms she said he wanted to discuss. What they could possibly be, he was at a loss. There had been no misunderstandings or ill will between them since they last spoke.

In any case, he couldn't squander the day hunting Anakin down. Yoda and the others needed him. Reporters would want his statement and opinion. His only hope was that Anakin wouldn't make his grand reappearance in the middle of this fiasco. _Force, please let him be smarter than that. Let his poor choices end with returning from Naboo early._

Padmé, meanwhile, was reciting a different set of prayers. Foremost was the hope that she'd done the right thing by covering Anakin's tracks. Deceit was a very foreign and discomfiting behavior for her, especially before a Jedi of Obi-Wan's esteem. But she continually reminded herself that the Obi-Wan she just deceived was not the Obi-Wan still coloring her memory. With time and effort, convincing herself of this would gradually ease her conscience.

At least, that was her fervent hope. And that faith was the only thing keeping her from running out the door to stop Ob-Wan from taking off.

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"_What is our first objective?"_

The satisfaction on Palpatine's face was almost perverse as he beheld Anakin. Neither paid any notice to the ambient air having just dropped one or two degrees.

"Our first objective," he responded, "is to clean that awful green paint from your face. Come to the washroom."

Down the Chancellor's private porcelain sink went a foamy green tide. A few stray drops landed on the gold-plated floor tiles as Anakin ran a towel over his cheeks.

"Much better. You won't be needing any disguises from now on," Palpatine assured him.

Anakin returned the towel to its bar. "What exactly _will_ I need? Our strategy is still unclear."

"The early stages are already underway. Increasing my Chancellor's powers incrementally over the years has set the stage perfectly," the Sith explained. "I have now garnered enough support to solidify my temporary powers. We announce your disassociation from the Order and new position of alliance at my side, and all is complete."

"You're certain there's sufficient support?"

"Absolutely. The bombing incident may cause a swell of Jedi sympathy, but it will also stir doubt and unease. Ultimately, authorizing tighter control of a controversial group will appeal to most."

"And our sharing of that control, it will be equal?"

"More than equal."

On the heels of that cryptic answer, Anakin followed him back to the desk. Palpatine switched off the holonet that was still chattering about the temple.

"You are about to enter a marvelous world, my boy. And not just in terms of political power, though that _will_ exceed your wildest imagination. I speak also of the Force – and the unbridled, untapped power you'll soon discover in its darker corners."

Without knowing why, Anakin felt compelled to sit again. As he did, Palpatine shifted behind the chair, resting his hands on the rich upholstery before slowly raising them to cover Anakin's head. There they lingered, fingers entwined in the dirty blonde curls as he closed his eyes.

"Soon you will learn how to summon waking visions, not just dream-induced ones," he said with seductive promise. "Here, a foretaste."

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Space and time blurred before Anakin's eyes. Gravity released its bonds. Matter decomposed and reassembled itself in a matter of seconds. Where there had been the Chancellor's red room was now a blue-black, stone-cold chamber overlooking the stars. Polished ebony floors surrounded an elevated altar with four thrones. Two sat empty, but he could see the backs of two heads surveying the galaxy through a seamless window.

Power. The scene breathed power, its black frame absorbing it and reflecting it back a hundred fold. Anakin inhaled it before the room even came into full focus. He watched in hungry awe. Who was this pair of rulers seated in supreme majesty over the universe? When they turned around, would he see his face in one of them?

He'd soon find out. Through a pair of sliding doors stepped a black-clad guard leading a prisoner. Judging by the latter's proud bearing, he was a captive of some importance. Good. A true demonstration of the two rulers' power was sure to follow.

"Darth Ferno, Lady Isis," the guard bowed despite neither of them looking. Even his uniform, sharply tailored and bearing sleek bars of rank, exuded power.

Turning leisurely to face their guests, Ferno and Isis brought their regal frames into view. Both were draped in luxurious robes of richest fabric. Hers was cowl-necked and blood red, while his black velvet cloak came to a high, stiff collar behind his neck. Their hands rested complacently on angular protuberances that underscored their austere power. They made a most impressive pair.

But their imposing presence was not what caused Anakin to gasp. Nor was it the stern, impassive masks on their faces. It was the _features_ of those faces.

The man, somewhere in his early twenties, looked upon the scene with the same blue eyes that Anakin saw in the mirror each morning. Ferno's mouth and jaw were so similar to his that it took his breath away. Yet he knew as clearly as he saw those features that it was not he who sat upon that throne.

_Then that must be… oh Force…_

Before he could finish the impossible thought, Lady Isis spoke.

"Who have you dragged before us today, Commander?"

Anakin's mind nearly imploded at the sight of her. Where he'd seen himself in Ferno, he saw no less of Padmé in Isis. The thick brown hair coiled around her head, the deep chocolate eyes glaring imperiously, the full lips set at a dissatisfied angle… she was no less beautiful than…

Her mother.

Anakin stood in total rapture of these, his children. There could be no doubt it was them he looked upon.

"Kirn Organa, your highness," the guard replied. "We found him harboring several Jedi fugitives on Alderaan."

"Ah, Bail's adopted son!" Ferno recognized. "Your father is a fool. I always knew one of you would end up before us."

Kirn raised his chin and met Ferno's glare with his own. "Gloat all you want, but your victory is temporary. Freedom and justice will outlast your reign of fear!"

Ferno smiled derisively. "Naïve beliefs from a simple, stupid tool. I would offer you the chance to join us, but we have standards, you know. We only recruit those with an intelligence quota above a womp rat's."

"Are you going to insult me to death? Did you run out of lethal injections?"

"Your ignorance continues to amaze me," the Sith laughed. "Lethal injection? Is that really how you expect to die?"

Rising ceremoniously, Ferno pushed both sleeves away from his wrists and grinned. Isis watched her brother with detached interest, head resting on one hand with an index finger lazily propped against her cheek. Her mother's eyes were thoroughly bored with the situation.

Even when Sith lightning bolted from her brother's outstretched hands, she hardly blinked. Neither did Kirn's screaming agony seem to affect her. It was just a menial task to oversee, an unexceptional event she'd yawned over hundreds of times before. Electricity singed the air she drew into her nostrils. Ferno's otherwise handsome face twisted into a visage of pure sadistic glee. The chamber was a cauldron of pain, horror, and raw, boundless power. Anakin could taste it, ride its soaring waves, lose himself in the darkly delicious pleasure of it all.

When Kirn was seconds from death, writhing feebly beneath Ferno's soulless gaze, the Sith addressed him one last time.

"Perish with the knowledge that your father will die next!"

Kirn's body succumbed to the searing bolts as he screamed his last. Closing his eyes, Ferno remained standing to revel in the residual suffering adrift in the air. For the first time since this interchange began, Isis too appeared to be enjoying herself. She indulged a slight smile.

"Well done, brother. With your skill and vision, I have no doubt Bail will indeed be next."

"Nor do I," came a voice from the door.

A caped silhouette was all Anakin could make out at first. It stood with booted feet apart and fists planted squarely on both hips, an unmistakable stance of power. And that voice… no sooner did Anakin's eyes begin to widen in comprehension when the figure strode boldly forward, blond curls catching the dim light. Blond with a peppering of gray, that was.

If Anakin was speechless before, his vocal cords completely seized now. Seeing his children was one thing. Seeing himself was like witnessing a star turn supernova. His future self was striking to say the least. With muscular chest and limbs and an ego to match, to call him formidable would be a grave understatement. Flinty eyes appraised the smoldering corpse of Kirn Organa as he poked it with one boot.

"I step out for five minutes and this is what I miss," dark Anakin grumbled. "You did well enough without me, it seems. Sidious will be pleased."

"As well he should be!" Ferno resumed his throne, crossing his arms.

"Watch your arrogance, Ferno. Kirn was but a boy. Destroying Bail will require far more effort."

"I'm well aware. And I also have a plan," the younger Sith swiveled back to face the stars.

"Then you can tell Sidious yourself. He requests you in the battle room."

Isis exchanged a look with her brother. "Am I to come too, father?"

Dark Anakin had just pivoted to make his exit when he halted, fists clenched angrily. "No. And Isis, you will address me properly in the presence of officers!"

The commander, who'd been standing in the shadows awaiting dismissal, shifted awkwardly.

"Begone!" Anakin shouted at him.

The man threw a hasty salute and practically ran out the door. Anakin drank in the man's fear before glancing back at his children.

"My apologies, _Darth Vader_," Isis amended.

"Good. Make sure it doesn't happen again," Vader warned, exiting with his inky cape billowing behind him.

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_End of Sith-induced vision. Repeat: end of Sith-induced vision. _

_I may have committed a heinous sin by incorporating some sort of Vulcan mind meld. Or maybe it's a legit Sith power? Again, too lazy to research and too apathetic to care if I occasionally blur the line between SW and other stuff. _


	35. Chapter 34

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_Yes, Anakin is stupid. That's the premise that makes this entire story possible - and entertaining._

_I always figured Anakin would/should wrestle more with his decision to join Sidious than he did in the movie. That's basically what these current chapters are for. So, a few degrees less stupid than the movie... for whatever that's worth._

_Expect more stupidity. Prepare to be shocked/appalled/incredulous. That's entertainment._

_For now, I'll leave you with the words of Jabba: "Soon you will learn to appreciate me." ;) _

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**Chapter 34**

Stunned didn't begin to describe Anakin's state after beholding Palpatine's vision. It had been so lucid, as if he were a live spectator in that very throne room – two versions of himself occupying the same space, with the incredible presence of his son and daughter just yards away. He held onto their images as the scene faded back to the Chancellor's office. _They were magnificent_, he thought with welling pride. _So graceful, so strong and…_

So murderous and evil.

Just as he'd been when he decapitated Dooku, he recalled with a pang.

"As I said, the share of power will be more than equal," Palpatine hissed in his ear. "The Skywalker family will hold four-fifths of the galaxy's rule. How does that sound?"

Four-fifths… of course. There had been four thrones, one vacant for himself, and one for Padmé. It shocked and enticed him simultaneously. Would she, _could_ she even consider this scenario? He imagined her recoiling at the idea, but if he were persistent and persuasive enough…

"There will be more than two Sith, then?" he asked hollowly.

"Indeed, there must be. Two are not enough to rule the entire galaxy, not to the extent I envision."

"You envision tyranny."

Palpatine hesitated. The curious part was that Anakin didn't sound entirely accusatory. There'd been a hint of unease, true, but there was also a trace of admiration in those words. He seemed to be seeking validation of one feeling over the other.

"The ends justify the means, Anakin. Or should I say, Darth Vader," Palpatine said with relish. "You already know that much. From satisfying your need for vengeance on the Tuscan Raiders, to expediting the war's end by killing Dooku, you know the value of that philosophy. We do what is necessary to achieve swift order, both within and without."

Anakin said nothing. A strange collision of thoughts and feelings raged in his soul. The power tempted him, luring him like nothing else ever had… yet the family dynamic he'd seen between him and the twins left something to be desired. It didn't exactly match his own vision of parent-child harmony and communication, but if Palpatine claimed it was the only way…

"I sense your uncertainty," the older Sith acknowledged. "May I remind you that if it's power you're seeking, you won't find it with the Jedi. They lacked such basic power as to sense their own Chancellor was not an ordinary human! I, who have been in constant contact with them for years!"

Sensing he was close to sealing the deal, Palpatine leaned in closer.

"I, who can sympathize with being different things to different people. The Jedi will never understand your roles as husband and father. They postpone your expulsion because of the public's affection for you, but make no mistake: their decision is written on the wall."

There wasn't a chord in Anakin's heart those words did not strike. The Jedi were weak, powerless, and useless. Unsympathetic and narrow-minded. Treacherous and capricious when it suited them. All of which he knew already, but Palpatine's succinct confirmation was the final nail in the Jedi's coffin.

Palpatine offered everything the Jedi did not. If his methods seemed foreign and uncomfortable initially, time would normalize everything. Anakin would learn to embrace it all, just as Padmé and the twins would. It was inevitable. It was their destiny.

Anakin looked down to find the holocron tucked between his fingers. Smiling with deep satisfaction, Palpatine spread his arms solemnly.

"Now, Darth Vader, go fetch your wife, so that we may secure her health and that of our grand future!"

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Padmé was peacefully engaged in a late morning nap when two hands gently rocked her awake. Through partially lidded eyes, she made out Anakin's blurry form and that of C3PO looking on from the doorway. The droid looked somewhat uneasy, while her husband appeared agitated and impatient. She scowled, too foggy to make sense of anything.

"Padmé, wake up," Anakin's voice grew clearer.

"You're all right!" she brushed his cheek. "The temple…"

"Shh, I know. I'm fine. Now get dressed and pack a suitcase. We're going someplace safe."

"Where?" Padmé heaved herself up, rubbing her eyes.

"The senate building. We're taking the Chancellor up on his offer."

"What?" she blinked. _I must still be too groggy to hear correctly…_

"Come, we must move quickly," Anakin prodded. "I'll explain on the way. Trust me, this is the safest course of action for us now."

"Why are we in such a hurry? Why can't you explain now?"

Unable to tolerate any further delay, Anakin flung open the closet and dug through the messy bottom layer, tossing a midsized suitcase onto the ground behind him. "If you don't start choosing clothes, I will."

"Anakin!" Padmé laughed incredulously, crossing over to him. "Unless another bomb was planted in the lobby, I'm sure we have a few minutes to spare! Just tell me what's going on!"

He grabbed the nearest handful of dresses, hangers and all, and threw them onto the bed.

"I can't even fit into half of these anymore!" Padmé stopped his wrist before he returned it to the rack. "Ani, get a hold of yourself! Take a deep breath and talk to me."

"Palpatine has the holocron, Padmé!" he finally blurted in exasperation.

She dropped his wrist. "The one you went to retrieve?"

"Yes! Only _he_ can truly save you and the twins. Now I really don't have time to explain the rest! Please, gather your things and let's go!"

Padmé's shock and confusion had her immobilized. "This doesn't make any sense! How in the world did he get it before you did? Why would he want it in the first place?"

Anakin went back to tearing through the closet, ignoring her questions. "Here, does _this_ one still fit?" he held a shapeless black dress out for her to assess.

"I think so," she eyed the growing pile of clothes. "Just how long do you plan on us staying with him?"

"Until the babies come." Anakin zipped the suitcase shut with finality.

Before Padmé could open her mouth in protest, it fell open as she doubled over in pain. Muscle spasms raked across her lower back and her uterus felt like it was on fire. Anakin dropped a handful of clothes and rushed to her side in an instant.

"Which may not be long now!" he gritted his teeth. "Another practice contraction?"

Padmé's breathing grew heavy. "I… I'm not sure…"

_Not sure?_ Anakin frantically scanned her swollen belly, as if he could distinguish true labor from false by sight alone.

"It's too early," he tried to verbally assert control over the situation.

"Try telling _them_ that," she rubbed her stomach gingerly, exhaling as the pain subsided. "And it really isn't. I was a week past seven months when you came home, and that was two weeks ago."

Trying to focus through his panic, Anakin pressed both hands against her bulge and fought to concentrate. The two tiny lives inside were squirming like there was no tomorrow. Their emotions were unreadable, either due to their underdeveloped minds or his distracted one. If they knew they were about to be born, they weren't giving up that secret just yet.

"They're very active. Is that normal during labor?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't know!" Padmé cried. "Dormé would know, but she's out getting groceries!"

"Forget her! The Chancellor has all we need!" Sweeping her into his arms, his face was flushed and wild as he hurried from the bedroom, nearly knocking C3PO over in the process.

"Excuse me, master Anakin! May I be of assist–"

"Bring Padmé's bag to the speeder!"

The golden droid scrambled to do as he was told, skittering to the balcony with the bag balanced on both arms. Without a word of thanks, Anakin dumped it behind the front seats, in one of which sat a panting Padmé. Anakin leapt to the driver's side, leaving a tongue-tied C3PO in the dust.

"Master Anakin…!" he called futilely, waving. "Given the circumstances, am I to still keep your whereabouts secret?"

He received no answer. His masters had vanished from sight long before he uttered the last word.

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Obi-Wan squinted at the plumes of smoke that were finally starting to thin out. After an hour of damage reports, police questioning, and a hundred interviews with reporters who all started to look the same, things were finally settling down. The casualty list had stopped growing, at least. The total body count was nine, with seven others recovering from various degrees of harm.

Adding to Obi-Wan's survivor's guilt was being unable to decide which was worse: the Jedi's loss, or the fact that Yoda was still detained by the security lockdown. With Mace and the others still en route back to Coruscant, there wasn't much to be done anyway, yet he couldn't shake the insidious feeling that something was amiss. If anyone might divine the source of his unease, it was Yoda.

"Thank you again for your cooperation and patience, Master Kenobi," a police chief sidled up to him. "We've gathered all we can for the time being. If we need anything else, we'll let you know."

_A polite way of saying, 'Get out of our way now,_' Obi-Wan mused. "How much longer do you estimate until the lockdown is released?"

"I can't say for sure. Could be five more minutes, could be another hour or two."

Nodding, Obi-Wan frowned at the smoking northwest tower. What looked like manageable damage from the outside must be an entirely different story inside. The unseen destruction was also the unpredictable, and that was what made the lockdown indefinite. Sighing with hands in his pockets and head hanging low, he took his time ambling back to his ship.

Reporters were still clustered in camps at the foot of the stairs, bent over portable equipment editing their work. Some wore boxy headphones while others feverishly slaved over datapads and video stations. Few took notice of him as he strolled by. They didn't appear overly concerned about anyone glancing over their shoulders.

That was good, because that's just what Obi-Wan did when something caught his eye on a video replay loop. In what must have been the first footage captured that morning, a hooded figure was seen bolting past the camera as it fled the temple steps. The reporter happened to be currently replaying that video section over and over before Obi-Wan's astonished eyes.

Despite the shaky visuals, the figure's face – painted a light green – couldn't have been clearer. It was Anakin. And based on his streamlined trajectory, it didn't take much imagination to see where he was going.

The senate building. Palpatine.

Gut-wrenching fear made his stomach lurch. It was just as he'd feared. Anakin was walking straight into the devil's maw.

He prayed against all odds that it wasn't so. _Maybe… just maybe he was taking a detour back to 500 Republica_. Not that that explained him being at the temple to begin with. No matter how Obi-Wan looked at it, the pieces interlaced into something ugly.

Five minutes later he was at Padmé's balcony. Though every fiber in him burned to go the senate building, he needed to secure the more vulnerable half of the Skywalkers first. He couldn't live with himself if, in his haste to confront the Sith, he left Padmé to fend for herself. His panic was nothing compared to hers if she went into labor alone.

The balcony doors were closed, unusual for such a mild day as this. Upon walking up to them, he discovered they were locked as well. Through the sheer curtains he could see no sign of life inside. He rapped on the glass anyway.

C3PO's tottering form appeared shortly thereafter. Peeking through a slit in the curtains, he hastened to unlock the door.

"Master Kenobi! How good it is to see you again. Please come in."

"Are Anakin or Padmé home?" Obi-Wan wasted no speech on pleasantries.

"Ah… no, not at the moment," C3PO hedged. The droid's discomfort could be read like a book, as usual.

"You know where they are."

"Please sir, I don't wish to deceive you, but my masters left me in a predicament! I was told to keep their location from you, yet every etiquette protocol in me demands that I should not, given the extraordinary circumstances!"

Obi-Wan stood inches from the jittery droid's face. "I daresay you have a conscience. Follow it."

"Just don't let them deactivate me!" C3PO pleaded.

_Such simplistic, egocentric concerns_. "I won't let them. Now tell me."

"Master Anakin came for mistress Padmé earlier this morning. He mentioned the Chancellor having a holocron of some importance. They were packing for the senate building when she went into labor!"

For the second time that morning, C3PO found himself brusquely abandoned by a high-strung human. Obi-Wan was almost halfway to light speed within two blocks.

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_The only way I saw __Padmé consenting to Palpatine's asylum was in an emergency such as this. Remember, she's not the sniveling pushover she was in the original ROTS. _


	36. Chapter 35

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**Chapter 35**

A sheen of sweat plastered Padmé's brown locks to her forehead; every few minutes, her knuckles went white from squeezing Anakin's new prosthetic hand. Her fierce grip was uncomfortable, but considerably less so than if his hand had been fully human. His skin burned but the interior structure easily bore the pressure.

The birthing suite Palpatine had arranged was comfortable enough, with a thick foam mattress in one corner and several oversized pillows scattered around. Aside from the sheer terror of the situation, Padmé had to admit she felt more physically free than under strict hospital protocol. No one prohibited her from shifting positions when she wanted. There were no restrictive cuffs or intravenous lines. Both Anakin and Palpatine could monitor the twins without such things.

That wasn't to say a physician wasn't also present. Doctor Yun Varul, head of the Chancellor's personal medical team, had arrived minutes after the Skywalkers. His Togrutan head tails were tied back to allow him unrestricted access while examining Padmé.

"Four centimeters dilation," he announced after his second exam. "Labor is progressing rapidly. At this rate, she'll reach the active stage in less than an hour."

"Excellent," Palpatine rubbed his hands. "Just as I suspected, the systemic effect of midichlorians transferring through the placenta has accelerated the process. The Force expedites their birth."

Padmé's head fell back in relief. _Less than an hour more of this? Thank heavens!_

The news was received by Anakin with less elation, however. Rising from his kneeling vigil at Padmé's side, he drew Palpatine to the far corner of the room.

"We haven't much time! We need the holocron!" he said in a hoarse whisper.

"Fear not, my boy," Palpatine placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I saved you the trouble of screening it from beginning to end. I learned the secret last night, and behold, it is safely in my possession."

From the generous folds of his sleeves he withdrew a slender syringe, its vial filled with amber liquid and its puncturing tip capped.

"This contains the serum needed to sustain Padmé's vitals. Doctor Varul prepared it according to the exact specifications given in the holoron."

"Should she be given it now?"

"Not until the active stage of labor begins. Any sooner and the effect is nullified," Palpatine responded, tucking the syringe back into his sleeve. He returned a comforting hand to Anakin's shoulder blade. "Breathe easy, my friend. Soon all will be just as it should."

Casting a worried glance at Padmé on her hands and knees, it didn't occur to Anakin that his idea of how everything _should_ be might differ vastly from Palpatine's.

"Ani!" Padmé's face contorted again. He nearly tripped on his own feet racing back to her.

"Don't give up, angel," he massaged her back, feeling helpless and guilty beyond belief. "It will be over before you know it. Think of holding our son and daughter in your arms for the first time!"

When the wave of pain dissipated, she turned awestruck eyes up to her husband. "A boy and a girl? You know for sure?"

Anakin grinned, tucking a limp strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes. They'll be beautiful."

"But I thought you couldn't see…?"

"I can now. It's only the beginning of my new powers. I can't wait to share it with you once you're rested," he stroked her hair with pride and affection. How greatly it would please him to reveal their future to her. He wanted to do so now, but she was in a less than optimal state to fully appreciate it. So he would wait, letting her shine in her finest hour, followed thereafter by _his_ finest. Their combined glory would outshine all the stars in the galaxy.

The delicate dance continued within the Chancellor's darkened side room. Padmé seized in pain, Anakin did his best to soothe her, Varul noted her progress with ever-rising eyebrows, and Palpatine's grin grew wider with each contraction.

The good doctor's estimate proved correct. Forty minutes after his initial prediction, he announced she was fully dilated. Propped awkwardly against a mountain of pillows, Padmé sought the Togrutan's permission to begin pushing. Instead of receiving it, she watched in winded confusion as he approached Palpatine. Something passed between the two of them. Something small and, from what little she could see, sharply pointed.

Craning her neck to see Anakin's reaction, she found him watching Varul with sober yet unalarmed eyes. Whatever was happening, he was in on it.

"Ani? What is that?"

"Shh, angel. It's nothing to be afraid of. This is what the holocron said you need."

His words failed to calm her. Why was she just learning of this now?

She'd never been one to be irrationally frightened of needles. Yet the sight of this one made the blood freeze in her veins. Her mouth ran dry as Varul uncapped the syringe and tapped the air from its contents. She didn't like its color. She didn't like the latex gloves Varul snapped onto his wrists with clinical indifference. And she especially disliked the unnatural look on Palpatine's face as he watched every move the doctor made.

"Ani, tell me what's in that!" she shifted against the pillows, unnerved to find his hands holding her shoulders gently but firmly in place.

"I already told you, it's the serum to save you from dying," he said almost robotically.

"But what _is_ it? What chemical compound?"

"Worry yourself not with such things, Padmé," Palpatine spoke up, still leering. "You are in the finest medical hands in the galaxy. I trust Varul with my life, and so should you."

Augmenting her unholy fear was Varul's reticence. He hadn't spoken a word since retrieving the serum. No words of consolation. No bedside manner whatsoever. Nothing to reassure a laboring mother who, by all rights, deserved to feel at ease now more than ever.

This was wrong. Even the lives still encased in her womb felt it. Their fear was as tangible as her contractions, which were now so intense she couldn't speak. Her mind shrieked in absolute terror. There was no escape. She was at the most vulnerable point of her entire life, pinned by her writhing belly in front and Anakin's iron grip behind.

Moaning in pain and defeat, hot tears stung her eyes and she shut them against Varul's approaching form. She felt the mattress depress as he knelt next to her. Then came the pungent smell of rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. As its cold wetness touched her arm, the sound of her throbbing heart filled her ears. All her other senses shut down.

When the door slammed off its hinges a millisecond later, she scarcely heard it.

"STOP!"

Had Padmé dared open her eyes, she'd have seen Obi-Wan brandishing his lightsaber, his features transfigured by raw hostility. He seemed larger than life.

"Put. Down. The needle."

Varul froze, the tip half an inch from Padmé's shoulder. His eyes glassed over as he stared at the furious Jedi, as if he didn't quite know what to make of his entrance. Palpatine was also stymied but regained his composure in a flash.

"Master Kenobi, fear not, the medicine is–"

"Don't speak!" Obi-Wan pointed a trembling lightsaber at the Sith. "_Lies!_ Anakin, whatever he told you, it's a lie!"

"What are you _doing_ here?" Anakin shouted in irate disbelief. "She's about to give birth! Either get out or put that thing away!"

Obi-Wan took measured, deliberate steps toward the group. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither is this blade. Get up, Anakin. We're taking Padmé to a proper hospital."

"You're insane! There isn't time!"

To underscore his point, Padmé cried out and curled forward, bearing down with all her might.

"She needs the serum! _Doctor!_"

Looking uncertainly between Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the vial, Varul hesitated. Having an armed, aggressive Jedi on one side and a crazed father on the other wasn't the plan. He didn't really want to upset either one.

"Do it, Varul!" Palpatine snapped. "Or your career is over!"

Padmé opened her eyes a sliver. She immediately wished she hadn't. Faster than her vision could process, Varul's wrist twitched – and was on the floor the next instant, severed by Obi-Wan's precision. Both she and the doctor screamed for very different reasons. Obi-Wan snatched the vial that landed on the mattress and snapped its tip.

"You'll be lucky if a hand is all you lose, _doctor_. Your license is next if I have any say in it!"

Shock clouded Varul's face, but it went beyond merely losing an appendage. He looked disoriented, as if having just awakened from a dream and finding himself here.

"W-what's happening?" he blinked rapidly, scuttling backwards. "Who are you? And you?" he flickered between Anakin and Padmé, doing a double-take at her laboring form.

"Someone who's just been pushed past his limit!" Anakin's face turned darker than night. He leapt to his feet with lightsaber in hand.

"No, someone blinded by emotion! The doctor was under Palpatine's mind control, Anakin! Figure it out!"

Varul blanched. "What! Chancellor, what is he talk–"

"_Silence!_"

Gnarled hands constricted the Togrutan's throat from across the room. Palpatine's grimace grew as he watched Varul attempt to loosen his invisible, deadly grip. Within seconds, the doctor's terrified struggling ended; his asphyxiated corpse slumped next to Padmé, who screamed again.

Anakin took little notice of Varul's passing. His livid attention was solely on Obi-Wan as the two held each other at bay.

"You'll pay for this," he swore. "If she dies, you won't be around to mourn!"

"You fool, I just _saved_ her from dying!"

"That serum was her only hope!"

"Far from it!" Obi-Wan rolled it defiantly between his fingers. "Did you see the label? No, of course not – you were too deluded to ask! It's _Tetromethide_, Anakin!"

Anakin's unchanged expression indicated he was ignorant of the drug.

"Barbaric cultures use it for capital punishment! It's a metabolic poison that slows body functions gradually over the course of three hours. The final minutes are excruciating for the victim!"

This managed to get Anakin's attention. Backing uncertainly toward Palpatine, he threw a guarded look at the Sith lord.

"Abject betrayal on Varul's part! I had no idea! He must have taken a bounty bribe on Padmé's life!" Palpatine threw a loathsome glance at Obi-Wan, not about to thank him for interfering to save her.

"Better that he's already dead," Anakin kicked Varul's lifeless form.

"Dead by Force choking! That can only mean one thing, Anakin!" Obi-Wan braced against the floodgates he was about to open. Two against a sinister Sith, with one of those two being a maddened father-to-be. Abysmal odds on the most optimistic of days. But his duty to protect the weak and vanquish evil wasn't something he could discard when inconvenient. As Padmé continued to groan in final labor, there was no time for fear or hesitation.

"Palpatine is a Sith lord!"

He expected a gasp, a raising of an eyebrow, a tipping of Anakin's head in bewilderment. Something, anything that revealed an appropriate level of surprise. Yet as he waited with bated breath for his padawan to turn his lightsaber toward Sidious, all that registered on Anakin's face was patronizing irritation.

"He already knows, Kenobi."

Palpatine's words were thick with wicked delight as he stepped to Anakin's side. The sight of the two of them standing unified… Anakin's heavy glare on one side and Palpatine's demented grin on the other… Obi-Wan thought his body would shut down.

His fingers lost all sensation and nearly dropped his lightsaber.

"And you can stop calling him Anakin. His name is Darth Vader."

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_Isn't it handy that Obi-Wan has such extensive biochemical knowledge? I bet he was a frequent winner at Jedi temple science fairs. BTW, Tetromethide is an imaginary compound. You won't find in any medical textbooks. I just like throwing together scary pharmaceutical names._


	37. Chapter 36

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**C****hapter 36**

Obi-Wan couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like vomiting. Cold and flu season always passed over him without incident. Food poisoning hadn't struck him since his adolescent years. So when his stomach convulsed in Sidious' lair, with Padmé minutes from giving birth and Anakin's blue eyes showing tinges of yellow, he was paralyzed.

Not that he wouldn't have been anyway. It was hard to move when your bones felt like they'd all evaporated.

"The _negotiator_ is at a loss for words, for once!" Sidious cackled.

To say Obi-Wan was outnumbered, outwitted and outplayed was the biggest understatement of the millennium. He deactivated his lightsaber; it was pointless to wield it any longer. Had Anakin not sold his soul, the two of them might – _might_ – have stood a chance of taking Sidious. It'd have taken all their will and then some, but it could have worked.

Not now. Not with this cataclysmic defection. Instead of two blue-green blades against one red, it was only Obi-Wan, unarmed except for the simplest of weapons: his words. Which, as Sidious just pointed out, he was running short on as well.

"A prudent choice, lowering your weapon," the Sith commended. "You always were a prudent one, Kenobi. Which is why you'll not interfere with us here today."

"Just because I know my physical limits doesn't mean I've given up."

"Oh? Lay one hand on the senator and I'll scorch your sorry carcass to a crisp. Or have you been untouched by Sith lightning so long that you've forgotten?"

"I've forgotten nothing," Obi-Wan recharged his courage. "Just as I haven't forgotten the valiant, honorable Jedi you were, Anakin! This can't be what you want!"

Anakin's lightsaber was still held at an aggressive angle. "As if you ever knew or cared what I truly want!"

"Justice, peace, and harmony… you sought these alongside the rest of us! For thirteen years, Anakin!"

"I sought them under false pretenses, under _your_ hypocritical guidance!"

"Hypocritical? What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Don't play innocent, _master_. Your idea of justice is selling secrets to the highest bidder. Peace is having me out of the way while you steal the spotlight for winning the war. And _harmony_ means criminalizing love and family!"

Obi-Wan didn't even know where to start. "You've lost me completely! What was that about selling secrets?"

"Spare me!" Anakin spat. "All Padmé asked was for you to keep your mouth shut, and you couldn't even do that! Where does your spite end? Oh, _I_ know – with selling our hidden location on Naboo! That's probably where I'd stop too."

"Anakin, I did nothing of the sort! The only thing that's been sold is your soul!"

"Liar!" Anakin's face was almost as flushed as Padmé's at this point.

"Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter. Remember what you said the day you learned of me and Padmé? '_The walls around your secret life have just crumbled, and the first thing you ask is how it happened? All that bothers you is how a damn fool like me could have possibly uncovered the truth_.' How the tables have turned!"

_He _would_ remember my advice, word-for-word, at a time like this!_ "Pay attention to those last two words: _the truth_. What you've accused me of contains _none_ of it! Including the belief that I exiled you just to have the war victory all to myself! Honestly Anakin, where is this _coming_ from?"

The quickest, most fleeting glance between Anakin and Sidious was all Obi-Wan needed for an answer. Of course. Who else could it have been?

The next question was how long he'd been feeding Anakin lies of this nature. But Obi-Wan already knew that answer too: _Too long._ Perhaps longer than what could be undone by logic.

"What has he offered you?" Obi-Wan dropped his voice as if in defeat.

Palpatine grinned anew. "Massive, incomparable power. A dynasty that will rule until the end of time."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Power founded on fear and brutality, no doubt."

"It's more than you'd have ever offered me!" Anakin shot back, disliking the other's calm composure.

"That's where you couldn't be more wrong, Anakin. Until you pulled this stunt, I was actually leaning toward reinstating you. Possibly even promoting you to Master!" the Jedi exclaimed. "How sad you never questioned his lies! Not once did you think to verify his assertions! Now look where it's left you – used and deceived, with nothing but the same on the horizon!"

Mentally stumbling on the Master comment, Anakin blinked himself back to his senses. "I feel no more used or deceived than during my Jedi years."

_But no less, either?_ Obi-Wan mused with renewed hope. "Let's compare your choices then, if it's all the same. Even if I am a liar, and I never intended to promote you, all you've lost is pride. The Jedi won't put a bounty on your head or hunt down your family. You may be disgraced, but you'll be safe – and you'll owe nothing to anyone."

Anakin's glare didn't lift, but neither did he make a retort. His lightsaber remained raised, though with a fraction less animosity.

"Then there's the Dark Side. Your soul, and that of your entire family, belongs to Palpatine now. Those are his unspoken terms of contract. And should you ever breach that contract, I promise you _won't_ want to pay the fines."

"There is no danger of breaching," Anakin avowed.

"You speak for yourself. Can you speak for Padmé and the twins with equal certainty?"

Anakin stiffened. "I'll only warn you once, Obi-Wan – don't meddle in what isn't your business!"

"Meddle? I'm merely asking a basic question that, quite honestly, you should have already asked yourself."

"I don't need to! Our fate is sealed, and it will be glorious!"

"For some of you, maybe. But what if one of them grows to hold different ideals? What if they don't appreciate the _glorious_ dynasty you chose for them? What then?"

Something clouded Anakin's face for a split second. The yellow in his eyes receded ever so slightly. "I… I'll _make_ them appreciate it!"

"What if you can't?" Obi-Wan pressed, stepping toward his old apprentice slowly. "If your children are half as strong-willed as you, Anakin, they won't be forced into _anything_." He stopped just four feet away from the lightsaber that had dropped several inches in the past minute. "And if they can't be forced, there will be consequences. So I ask you again, are you willing to pay that fine?"

Anakin winced and pinched his eyes shut. Something unpleasant was happening to the vision he'd seen earlier. The throne room looked the same, but instead of Darth Ferno and Lady Isis lounging in comfortable arrogance, the former was standing in defiance to Sidious himself – who was seated next to Anakin's consternated future self.

He couldn't hear any of them speaking, but he didn't have to. The air was thick with tension and the reason was obvious. Ferno was declaring his independence. He wanted to extricate himself from the dynasty. His moral conscience compelled him to do so.

Sidious bared his teeth in response. _"Let it be as you have chosen, _Jedi_,"_ Anakin read the emperor's lips – and then watched him turn to his future self, communicating more with one look than a thousand words could have.

The son's disobedience was the father's to discipline.

It made sense. He who raised the boy was responsible for failing to indoctrinate him.

And so it was he, not Sidious, who flung Sith lightning at Ferno without a moment's hesitation.

The scream Anakin tried to release was trapped in his throat. There was no closing his eyes or averting his gaze from this torturous scene. His soul burned as if the lightning had also struck it, but the only visible victim was Ferno, whose pain and misery defied description. The boy's suffering flooded the chamber in which Anakin was emotionally drowning.

He was shaking by the time Ferno's form went limp, gray wisps of toxic smoke unfurling from his corpse. Anakin couldn't even look at his future self. Sidious was grinning with unmatched, unprecedented pleasure.

_Please, let it be over…_

In stepped Lady Isis in a final guest appearance. Hair bound so tightly she looked almost droid-like, she paused just inside the door and mutely assessed the room. Glancing first at Ferno's body, then Sidious and lastly future Anakin, she cocked her head as if bemused.

"One less to argue with now, I suppose."

The echo of her words sent chills though his bone marrow as everything faded. Just as he had two weeks ago in that twilit apartment at Padmé's side, he fell to his knees. He could barely breathe. His spirit felt ravaged to the point of madness.

Slowly, agonizingly, he planted the sole of one boot on the ground and raised his shaking frame. All traces of yellow had vanished from his eyes. Breath returned to his lungs, as did mental clarity.

Those two vacant thrones were never for him and Padmé. They were for him and Sidious.

Which explained why Ferno and Isis were his only offspring.

_FORCE._

Obi-Wan was right. Palpatine had done nothing but use, manipulate, and deceive him from the beginning. Those were the family values he'd have imparted on his soulless children. Children who'd have grown up motherless. Loveless. Morally and spiritually bankrupt.

"You – you _KNEW_ that was Tetromethide!" he roared at full volume, swinging his blade toward Palpatine as the Sith ignited his red one.

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_And so, just as in ROTJ, Luke's suffering was the deal-breaker. Anakin could embrace tyranny and an "ends justify the means" mentality only until it crossed the line. That's what it took him to snap him out of it. _

_It was too easy and tempting to include Anakin's "Liar!" line, so I did. _

_And notice I never refer to Anakin as Darth Vader. Only Palpatine does. That's to indicate he was never truly, fully converted to the Dark Side at any point._

_Now for the finale..._


	38. Chapter 37

_And now, a little number I like to call "Palpatine's Last Stand."_

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**Chapter 37**

For Padmé, the world had stopped spinning ages ago. The passage of time had likewise crawled to a halt. Air and gravity were all she knew. When through her blurry vision she saw what looked like Anakin and Obi-Wan battling Palpatine with superhuman ferocity, she blinked. It could merely be an illusion, a hallucination caused by pain and dehydration.

It mattered little either way. It didn't change the fact that with trembling fingertips, she felt the first baby's head crowning. With its father engaged in mortal combat yards away, it was proceeding boldly forward.

Instinct hijacked her senses. She could do this. She was made to do this. The setting may be jarringly wrong, but her body had a job to perform, whether she was ready or not. Whether her husband was ready or not.

Anakin had been seeking power, he said. Did it compare with the raw, unbridled power that surged through her now?

Power that met unspeakable tenderness when she felt the warm, slippery body of her firstborn pass between her hands.

A boy, whimpering at the sudden change in temperature. He was beautiful. Perfect. Squinting his clear blue eyes at a world more foreign and frightening than he realized.

And still attached to the umbilical cord, she realized through her fog of sweet, intoxicated enchantment. She upturned the deceased doctor's medical bag and a long, slender pair of scissors fell out. What Varul would have used before awaiting her slow death.

Gritting her teeth, she snipped the cord, almost laughing when she felt no pain. Of course it didn't hurt. And now he – her son – was free. Snuggling him against her as best she could, instinct continued to steer her, wild and breathtaking, as she braced to deliver the next twin. The pressure was different this time, less excruciating. A few muted grunts later and the boy's sister followed him with ease.

A swirl of fine, dark brown hair clung to the girl's head, which was turning an angry shade of pink as she cried much more loudly than her brother. Her eyes were pinched shut in protest, but Padmé guessed their color was the same mahogany brown she always saw in the mirror.

Two miniature replicas of their parents, the two were. Apparently, Kaminoans weren't the only ones who'd mastered cloning.

Amid the heap of medical supplies were two receiving blankets. Swaddling her children in them, Padmé shifted her sore body to shield them from the caustic battle still raging between Jedi and Sith. Five seconds of watching and all she wanted was to bury her face in the pillows. As if seeing no evil would protect her… or Anakin.

Anakin, who now placed himself directly between Palpatine and his new family, fighting with the strength and ferocity of ten men.

"So healthy and strong, your offspring," Sidious said greedily. "Vibrant and powerful, I can tell already!"

"Take a mental picture, you won't be seeing them much longer!"

"Mistaken as usual. They've been mine since before they were conceived."

"What insanity is that?"

"Do you know how long I have foreseen this?" Sidious gloated, halting both Anakin and Obi-Wan's blades at once. "Since the day you first stepped foot on Coruscant! Your unsurpassed power, your marriage, your children – I saw it all in a flash, crystal clear and absolute."

"Not so absolute as you think!" Anakin gritted his teeth.

"We shall see. Your focus is already slipping, distracted by the newborns. Yes, you want to see them, hold them in your arms… the _wait_ is _eating_ at you!" Palpatine pronounced the T's with excessive crispness.

Anakin let out a frustrated cry, arcing his lightsaber with ungainly force. The move almost cost him his left arm. Obi-Wan intercepted Palpatine's vicious move just in time, grimacing at the Sith with renewed rancor.

"Cheap shot, Chancellor!" Obi-Wan cried. "Only a coward would use that against a foe! Your soul really is a bottomless black hole!"

Mad cackling was all he received in reply. Sidious led the dance, angling his position so that Anakin would be forced to face him with Padmé and the twins huddled as a backdrop.

"They're so cold and helpless, Anakin," he hissed exactly like a snake. "Run to them. Embrace them as a father should. Will you deny them comfort at such a time as this? Mere minutes after they've been born?"

"Shut up!" Obi-Wan demanded. "Anakin, don't listen to him! Padmé and the twins will be fine, as long as you and I take him down!"

Anakin's head felt like it was splitting in two. He heard Obi-Wan's words as if through a helmet, processing the syllables apart from their real meaning. His sense of sight was operating far more dependably at the moment, and what he saw beyond Palpatine's shoulder had him wheezing from the effort to resist. Padmé, curled in a blood-stained gown, head tucked into her chest where two tiny heads rested. The control needed to keep from running to them, just as Palpatine invited… he didn't know if he possessed it. The Sith was right. His resolve was rapidly weakening.

In that moment, it mattered little how many midichlorians coursed through his veins. No man alive could have borne that emotional weight.

In what would be Palpatine's final temptation to the young Jedi, Anakin made his move.

A move that cost him a hand and several inches off his right arm.

The shock of impact wasn't what paralyzed him. It was the unexpected pain that tore through the synthetic limb. Doctor Tran wasn't joking when he said the finished product would look and feel virtually real.

And what a way to test that selling point.

With a spiteful flick of his boot, Palpatine extinguished Anakin's lightsaber where it lay next to his severed forearm. The gleam in the Sith lord's yellow eyes had never been brighter, never more lasciviously sadistic and at the pinnacle of pure, unspoiled evil.

"A fool and his appendages are soon parted," he quipped. "Often more than once."

Hunched over, Anakin clutched the cauterized end of his arm, cursing his folly. He'd let the Sith manipulate his thoughts yet again. Had he no defense against such ploys? Was he destined to yield to them to the bitter end, surmounting one only to fall prey to the next?

"Look at you, crippled and pathetic," Palpatine sauntered around him. Obi-Wan was crouched in stiff uncertainty, wondering if and when to strike. "The story of your life, really. Raised a slave on a dismal planet. Stolen from your mother, the only family you ever had – and then you failed to save her. Put in your place by Dooku, who was the first to claim your arm as a prize. Made a spectacle by the Jedi when you failed to keep their code."

Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan sensed an imminent strike from the Sith. He seemed perfectly content to milk his verbal assault.

"And now, the crowning glory of all those failures: losing your arm again, much to the shame and horror of your wife, whose life and those of your children you can no longer protect. Such chronic failure! So pathetic and unbecoming of the _Chosen One!_"

"What do you want from me?" Anakin barked. "If you're going to kill me, then do it! Quit toying with me!"

"I'd hate to kill you before offering you once last chance to join me. My point in revisiting your failures is to show you really have nothing to lose."

"Nothing except Padmé!"

"The Anakin I knew – the one I always envisioned living up to his power – would not be swayed by sentimental attachment. You're stronger than that. If only you could see how your potential extends far beyond mere domesticity and its trappings."

"Don't you dare speak of her in such base terms!"

The Sith lord's smirk reached a new level of slithering patronization. "She's already given you what you need. She has performed her maternal duty. Her usefulness is at an end."

Anakin was flushed and seething at this point. "Don't _EVER_ speak of her like that! You wretched _monster!_"

"Shall I take that as a no? Is that your final answer then?"

"As sure as I'm a Jedi!" Anakin swore, throwing Obi-Wan a proud glance. It may be the last the two would share – and he hoped it conveyed everything he felt. His guilt and regret for letting himself believe Palpatine's endless lies. His shame over letting those lies lead to this most unfortunate end. And above all, his completely restored faith and pride in being a Jedi alongside his brother. The brother who might die this day along with him, but who would do so with full reconciliation.

Maybe somehow, through the mystical healing strands of the Force, that reconciliation would be Padmé's salvation as well. Maybe it would cloak her and the twins, transporting them far, far away from this pit of evil.

He could only hope. And pray. With eyes shut, he braced for martyrdom.

"Pity. In the end, you were weaker than any of us imagined." Turning down his red blade, Palpatine raised a hand to choke Obi-Wan, pointing the other at Anakin with dramatic grace as his knuckles locked. "I so hate disappointments."

"And _we_ hate Sith lords!"

All three turned toward the voice in unguarded shock. Not that they needed to see Mace Windu to verify he'd spoken. The bald Jedi's booming voice was as distinctive as his purple lightsaber, which hummed alongside Yoda, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Aayla Secura.

Mace stepped forward. "Consider us fashionably late to this party."

Obi-Wan couldn't believe his eyes. The temple lockdown… the far-flung summons to Jedi masters on assignment… all had been synchronized by the Force with stunning precision. And not a moment too soon.

Six against one were odds Obi-Wan would bet on any day.

"Better late than never, I always say!" he winked at Anakin, for whom the comment held its own meaning.

"Late and foolish!" Sidious snarled, flaring his lightsaber back to life. "Today has seen the undoing of Skywalker, and it will soon see the end of the Jedi altogether!"

"Only in your psychotic dreams, Sith!" Windu assumed attack stance. The four masters flanking him followed suit.

And then a small-scale war erupted in the good Chancellor's office. Carpets ripped and singed as seven blades whirled in eye-popping choreography. Fixtures and furniture flew at random intervals, torn from walls and stripped from bolts as the melee escalated. Holes and gashes appeared in furnishings that cost more than a senator's yearly salary. And still the epic battle raged, with Padmé seeking shelter behind a decorative partition with paper-thin sections. It wasn't much, but it was the only object capable of blocking her and the twins from view. Her best survival strategy was to stay out of sight, out of mind.

Through a slivered gap in the partition, she watched the impressive interplay of Jedi and Sith. She saw Anakin doing the same, his back facing her in a position that partially blocked her view. When an ear-splitting cry pierced the air seconds later, she strained to see past him. Someone had been severely injured. But who? It couldn't possibly be…

"Anakin, come here," Obi-Wan said breathlessly. "See what has become of your would-be _master_."

The Jedi stepped away to reveal a sorry sight. There was Palpatine, collapsed on his knees with robes torn, hair askew, and most astonishing of all, without either of his hands. His face was warped by the most despicable mix of hatred, loathing and vice. It contorted beyond recognition as Anakin stood before him.

"A fool and his appendages are soon parted," the Jedi said flatly.

"Clever, very clever," Sidious spat. "Brave words for someone who had to be rescued. Perhaps if you'd managed to bring me to my knees yourself, you'd deserve to boast."

"That's always been your folly, you rotten sack of flesh. You had me thinking the only route to pride and glory is through conquest. Finally I see that isn't the true source of honor. Selflessness is."

"How noble. Be sure to get that engraved on a Jedi temple cornerstone."

"Maybe I will, but there's one order of business I have to carry out first."

Not a word passed between him and Obi-Wan as the latter handed him his lightsaber. It was a somber passing of the baton. When Anakin had it firmly in his left hand, he searched his master's face one last time. Obi-Wan nodded, and in the taut moments preceding Palpatine's demise, he handed Anakin the final nail for the Sith's coffin.

"Your mother's death was no accident," Obi-Wan proclaimed. "This snake arranged it, no doubt hoping to use your angst and frayed emotions to his advantage."

Anakin's eyes turned to stone. He didn't need to ask how his mentor came to know this. He could see the truth burning in his eyes, hot like the Tatooine suns that first bore witness to this evil. All the turmoil and anguish of the past three years suddenly lay at Palpatine's knees. Sneering at his pathetic form, Anakin took one final step forward to perform the duty no one else could - or deserved - to do.

"This," Anakin sheared Palpatine's right shoulder away, "is for turning me against the only true brother I've ever known!"

The Sith writhed in brief agony but not a sound escaped his open mouth.

"This," Anakin severed the left shoulder, "is for coveting my children and plotting to kill my wife!"

A constricted hiss slipped between the Sith's clenched teeth this time.

"And _this_ is for my mother!"

Padmé flinched at the sickening thud of Palpatine's head meeting the floor. The twins resumed their crying in tandem.

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_Whoa! Crazy action-packed chapter to wind things up! Babies delivering themselves, dismembered hands flying everywhere, Windu's purple lightsaber - it's madness, madness I say! _

_Forgive the cheesy re-rendering of "This party's over" and "It has seen __the end of Kenobi,__ it will soon see the end of the rebellion." I couldn't resist._

_On a side note, in the movie I always wondered why Palpatine never expressed interest in abducting the twins. (Maybe he was thinking it? Until __Padmé bit the dust, that is?__) They'd be powerful allies he could influence from a very impressionable age. Then again, maybe he didn't want the hassle of diaper duty. Understandable._

_Up next: Epilogue - which will be posted Saturday morning. Try to breathe calmly until then! :)_


	39. Epilogue

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**Epilogue  
****  
Five years later**

Sequins, satin, velvet, and a myriad of other luxurious fabrics skimmed the senate building's steps that evening. A chandelier of twinkling stars shone upon the guests in their finery, the dazzling display of which Coruscant seldom saw. An event such as this came just once or twice in a lifetime. Not a single invitee had failed to attend.

Such was the singular pull of Senator Padmé Skywalker's retirement gala. To some of her oldest friends and colleagues, that name still looked odd, printed on the elegant invitations instead of "Amidala." But over the past five years, most had grown accustomed to her married name, which she now preferred even in professional context. The days of obscuring that part of her identity were long over.

Yet while her personal life was widely known, her reasons for retiring weren't. Even after the birth of her third child two years ago, she went on record saying it would be many, many years before she withdrew from politics. So her distinguished guests were as glamorous as they were curious. Some even felt inclined toward resentment, feeling the senator had misled her people, all of whom loved her dearly. But most held their tongues and suspended judgment, certain she wouldn't have made this decision in haste or under ill advisement. That simply wasn't like her.

The grand banquet hall was abuzz with anticipation as dignitaries from all over the galaxy mingled. Dignitaries, as well as a few miscellaneous attendees – the youngest of which were seated in the front row of silk-draped chairs, kicking their feet restlessly.

"Grandma Jobal, where's mom and dad?" asked Luke for the hundredth time that evening.

The older woman glanced over the twins' heads and rolled her eyes at Ruwee, who was bookending them three seats away.

"They're still getting ready backstage, Luke," she tried to keep her tone patient. "It won't be much longer now. Try to sit still!"

That was easier said than done for both the boy and his sister Leia. Prior to leaving for the gala that afternoon, Jobal had asked her daughter if she and Anakin fed these children sugar by the cupful. Currently, her biggest fear was they'd fidget their formal attire to shreds. Especially Leia's silk organza gown that had cost a pretty penny and then some.

At least two-year-old Zade was easier to handle. The toddler sat comfortably on his grandmother's lap, content with sucking a ring of plastic keys to death. Occasionally he'd throw an inquisitive look up at his grandmother, pale blue eyes round with wonder, but a few reassuring words were all he needed to resume his mindless play.

To Jobal's right sat Sola and Darred with their daughters, whom puberty had rendered awkward and self-conscious – and no less infatuated with their uncle, much to their chagrin. It didn't help that at twenty-seven, Anakin continued to improve with age. His quick temper and impulsive mannerisms had matured considerably over the past several years. Many attributed it to the inevitable growth that came from parenting. Others suspected it had something to do with his mended relations with the Jedi council.

Both schools of thought were correct. It was a blessed combination of both that had smoothed Anakin Skywalker's rough edges and hewn one of the noblest Jedi Masters the Order had ever seen. And it was that Jedi Master who, alongside his distinguished wife, strode onstage now amid deafening applause.

Beneath an arbor of flowering vines, the pair stood holding hands behind the podium. Self-conscious grins and flushed cheeks beamed upon the audience until the clapping finally died down.

"Friends, family, and colleagues, my heartfelt thanks for your attendance today," Padmé began, needing no datapad to reference. "Each of you represents a piece of my heart and soul. Some pieces just happened to travel a little farther than others to be here," she winked at those in the front row.

"When you received invitations to this, my retirement gala, you no doubt were surprised. And when you saw me arrive on stage a minute ago, you were likely expecting a grand speech by Padmé Skywalker, the eloquent orator," she continued. "But my reasons for retiring are not nearly as fascinating as rumors suggest, and the explanation won't be grand either. At least, not in the same manner as my previous speeches."

Pausing to share a warm, intimate smile with her husband – whose high Jedi garb had never looked more regal – Padmé stepped back from the podium and tucked one hand under her curved stomach, which had been obscured by her high-wasted, billowy gown. With the exception of the Naboo visitors in the front row, the audience reacted with hushed exclamations of wonder and surprise.

"With the impending arrival of my fourth child, and after much deliberation and introspection, I thought it best to retire from the public sphere. This decision has been long coming. Despite what my official statements led you to believe, I wrestled with this choice often during the past five years. When Queen Apailana allowed me to continue serving after Luke and Leia's birth, I felt obliged due to her generosity. She knows and understands my current feelings. I depart her service on amiable terms."

The crowd sat in awed silence, hanging on her every word. Sitting immediately behind Ruwee and Jobal, Obi-Wan and company were particularly mesmerized. Anakin had kept both of these secrets well hidden the past few months.

"If I could compose a letter of gratitude to everyone I hold dear, it would stretch from here to my homeland of Naboo and back ten times," tears danced on the brims of her eyelids. "Serving and knowing all of you has been the most magnificent gift I could hope for – with the exception of my husband and children," she smiled up at Anakin again. "With them as my witnesses, I will never forget the glorious years we shared serving the Republic. Continue to protect and guide it well. Just as you all hold a piece of me, I will always carry a piece of you, even when I'm halfway across the galaxy."

She'd misled them, saying it wouldn't be a grand speech. The ensuing applause testified as much. So did the standing ovation that accompanied it. Blushing furiously, Padmé felt Anakin's right arm – the one that had been restored three times in the past eight years – tuck her close to his side. Luke and Leia came running onstage a moment later, released by the cheers and shouts of everyone behind them. Padmé's teeth gleamed in a joyful, uninhibited grin as they clung to her and Anakin's legs.

After an eternity of applause, another voice broadcast itself from the far corner of the stage. Chancellor Bail Organa stood with microphone in hand and a grin of his own.

"A lady of grace, integrity, and passion to the last," he walked toward the family. "You will be missed, senator Skywalker, and never forgotten. As a token of our deep, abiding appreciation, the galactic senate presents you with this commemorative plaque, engraved with your likeness, years of service, and signed by dozens of your closest comrades."

Padmé accepted the oval bronze gift with a few more tears. It was beautiful, and far beyond anything she expected to receive.

"A larger version of this plaque will also adorn the entrance hall of this senate building. There it will hang for future generations to respect and admire. And of course, you are welcome to see it whenever you wish – our halls are ever open to you and yours, dear lady."

More thunderous applause. Padmé feared the senate dome would collapse from the reverberations.

"Thank you Bail," she brushed a tear aside. "For once in my career, I'm at a loss for words."

"You need say nothing, Padmé. It is we who owe you something, not the other way around." Turning to Anakin, Bail extended a firm hand to shake. "The same goes for you, Master Skywalker. I know of no other couple who has given half as much to the Republic. Your combined sacrifice is truly legendary."

Interrupting the scene was Luke, who tugged on his mother's dress urgently. Padmé leaned down for him to whisper in her ear.

"We have one vote for opening the buffet now!" she laughed, ruffling his blond hair. The crowd echoed her amusement.

"Then by all means, let it be open!" Bail raised a hand toward the catering crew, who lifted the lids off four dozen food platters. Tantalizing wafts of warm hors d'oeuvres soon filled the room, and the next thing she knew, Padmé was off the stage and in the arms of her family with eager guests swarming nearby.

"You look so lovely tonight," Jobal kissed her daughter's cheek before embracing Anakin. "And you! To be able to call you my son-in-law! It still takes my breath away sometimes."

Ryoo and Pooja elbowed each other violently at that comment. Sola didn't notice as she hugged her sister next.

"I knew this day would come sooner or later. With children like these, it's amazing you held out as long as you did!"

"And another on the way," Obi-Wan interjected, joining the family circle with a disarming smile. "Ever since that temple bombing five years ago, Anakin's taken it upon himself to repopulate the Order," he winked at the Naberries. "Two more before you replace the six lives lost, Anakin."

"You've always had a funny way of saying 'congratulations,'" Anakin shook his head, laughing. The two Jedi slapped each other's backs and stood back just as Bail and Vice Chair Mon Mothma approached.

"Once again, I feel like I'm the last to know about this," Mon brushed Padmé's belly after hugging her.

"Oh, you're hardly the last," Obi-Wan smirked. "Leave it to Anakin to conceal this sort of thing for dramatic effect."

"Hey, no harm done this time," Anakin defended. What an incredible gift and testament to their brotherhood that they could joke about their darkest period. Equally incredible was the council's magnanimous response in the aftermath. After promoting Anakin to Master with barely ten seconds of deliberation, Jedi code was amended to allow exemptions for marriage on a case-by-case basis. Some exemptions already occurred, as with the case of Ki-Adi-Mundi, but the new provisions allowed for broader reasons than species' survival.

In short, love was now satisfactory, so long as the Jedi (or Jedis) involved could demonstrate it did not impede their use of the Force or commitment to the Order.

Just as Anakin had demonstrated. To a degree even Mace Windu acknowledged with every nod he now gave Skywalker. In and out of council meetings, Anakin at last received the reverence and regard he'd tirelessly sought for so long.

Ironically – or perhaps, appropriately – he obtained that respect only once he was willing to sacrifice it all. To die without Master status… without ever seeing his children grow in the Force… without having the chance to fully vindicate himself in Obi-Wan's eyes… this was the humility he boldly chose. And because he'd chosen it, he was freed from having to endure it. Fate was often funny in its doling of ethical lessons.

"No harm at all," Bail replied. "Unless you count losing one of the most honorable senators in the entire Republic's history harmful. I know I've asked this a hundred times, Padmé, but are you positive this is the choice for you?"

Padmé took no offense at the Chancellor's query. Smiling, her eyes grew distant. "I'm positive. Out of everything I've learned during my political tenure, one poignant lesson is that there are seasons in life. Phases, as some call them. Some last longer than others, but they all teach us something. And we must move on once they've taught us all they can."

"With wisdom like that, tell me again why didn't you run for Chancellor?" Bail sighed.

"Because I knew someone even better for the job," she elbowed him. "You're far wiser than you give yourself credit for, Bail. Which is why you received a nearly unanimous vote – everyone knows you're far too grounded and level-headed to ever abuse your role as Palpatine did."

"Well, thank you, but _anyone_ would abuse it less than he did. Even Tatooine gangsters would have reigned with more scruples."

Padmé laughed. "True, but gangsters wouldn't have helped the Jedi track down Grievous and end the war just two weeks after being inaugurated."

"If the price was right, you never know," Obi-Wan joked. "But in all seriousness, Chancellor Organa, your plaque of honor is hanging in the temple for the same reason Padmé's will hang here. Your contribution to the Republic's lasting peace is unparalleled."

"It was a group effort," Bail insisted. "True victories always are."

"Here, here!" Anakin raised his champagne glass. "To group efforts, past, present, and future!"

The clinking of nine goblets – one of which contained sparkling grape juice instead of champagne – joined the bustling sounds of the joyful celebration, which lasted well into the night. That is, for the majority of attendees. The Skywalker children were escorted home by Dorme at their usual bedtime, owing to the busy day that awaited them tomorrow. Though it would be a few years before Zade joined them, Luke and Leia began Jedi training at the crack of dawn.

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_A sweet, sappy ending, courtesy of Anakin blacking out instead of Obi-Wan during the Invisible Hand's crash landing... and the cascade of events that happened as a result. _

_A million thanks to those who read, reviewed, and/or enjoyed this story! I hope you found it half as satisfying as I do._

_Another dramatic/epic plot is in the works… but I won't spoil the surprise. Thank you, thank you, thank you again for reading, and I hope you find many more enjoyable stories! :D_

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End file.
